


Intersect

by KY Lowell (TachyonStar)



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Dubious Consent, M/M, Spardacest, screw canon (it's ribbed for your pleasure), sort of feral Nero
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-05-16 08:19:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 38,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19314265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TachyonStar/pseuds/KY%20Lowell
Summary: Fifteen times Dante and Nero had an encounter not for innocent eyes, from DMC4's timeline to 5's. (Prompt table challenge for 15kinks on Dreamwidth.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Whooooooo boy, I'm strangely proud of this shit.
> 
> Ahem.
> 
> I'm doing this prompt challenge because god damn it I want to write a lot of unapologetic Dante/Nero smut, and let's face it, the two of them lend themselves very well to kinky things.
> 
> Feedback appreciated; I normally don't write stuff this...blatant, I suppose, and I would be most curious to know if it's working.

_**Prompt #1 - Involuntary Arousal** _

* * *

  
From the instant the man in red turns, eyes a flash of ice in his blood-spattered face, the sound of Nero's pulse begins to build to a pounding crescendo in his ears.  
  
He's not exactly unused to this otherworldly rage, not by now, but it's never quite threatened to consume his conscious mind this _strongly_ and that alone is enough to throw off his mental balance, a curtain of hazy crimson drawing itself across his senses that obliterates the line between thought and action so thoroughly he can't _comprehend_ what he's doing. The last coherent vestige of his mind dimly realizes he's running, trying to protect Kyrie and keep her from turning back, but the rest of it - he's so off kilter he can't stop her when she pulls away, when she runs to Credo, and the sound of her cry when she's knocked to the floor triggers something deep within him that burns like hellfire, severing that final conscious thread.  
  
No thought. Just action. _Re_ action.  
  
He doesn't recall moving; he hardly even comprehends the jarring impact as his boots drive sole-first into the bloodstained face, the feel of Blue Rose's recoil in his hand, and when the haze clears from his mind enough for him to focus on the guns that are abruptly pointing directly at his face, there's a moment of dizzying confusion to go along with that focus. He could have sworn his feet were _just_ on the ground, not precariously perched atop slippery stone, and yet here he is, standing atop the statue of the Savior and staring with unbridled fury into eyes the color of palest sky.  
  
Eyes like his _own_.  
  
He becomes dimly aware he is almost panting, shoulders heaving briefly as he sucks in air like a drowning man, and he doesn't understand it.  
  
Kyrie's voice, seemingly so far away, hardly reaches him; he feels more than hears his own shout for her to _go_ and is only vaguely aware of Credo saying something as a low indistinct buzz under the thunderous beat of his own heart, those eyes holding him spellbound in a way he can't figure out whether to admire or despise. Too furious, too confused, that insistent heat still burning in him with an intensity that he can't get ahead of, he tries once more to force it down even as he steadies his aim, as he pulls the trigger once more.  
  
The bullets don't hit their mark, but honestly, at this point, he isn't expecting them to; neither is that wrathful presence within him, once more ripping away those hard-fought vestiges of control, his body flinging itself into the air of its own volition and the heat becomes unbearable when he and the stranger slam together in midair, his legs finding their way round the broad leather-clad back as what feels like electricity jolts sharply up his spine. (How _laughably_ intimate, some part of him thinks, and if he were truly _sane_ right now that might be embarrassing but--) It's making him tremble, the feral haze growing stronger, and he's only just _dimly_ aware of the bright flashes and near-deafening sounds that come from firearm versus firearm, even that beginning to fade the longer he holds on. He wants - no, he doesn't _know_ what he wants, all he knows is that he can't _breathe_ and he's so hot and he - he has to break free, he has to get _control_ before - before--  
  
\--before _what_?--  
  
\--the static-like feeling swells, leaps within him, and he feels he's drowning for a frighteningly long moment.  
  
He comes back to his senses straddling leather and denim-clad hips, both of them on the ground, his right arm glowing painfully bright as he drives his fist into that perfect face over and over and over again, some part of him vaguely wondering when exactly he let that presence fully out to play but the rest of him only caring about the immediate moment. He can't think, he can't speak, it's all he can do to breathe and to exist and he's not even trying for control now, craving the feeling of flesh and bone giving way beneath his furious blows (why won't it come? Why won't it _come_? The stranger's skull should be nearly _powder_ by now and not even one tiny bone has started to crack--) He wants it so much that it's scaring him, and that unexpected feeling is what finally gives him the willpower to stop himself and try to take stock of the situation.  
  
"You're not human," he finds himself suddenly saying, hoarse, raspy from the feral sounds he's been letting out, his throat so dry he can hardly even swallow to try and wet it.  
  
That earns a chuckle, and those _infuriating_ eyes lock onto his, making him feel like he's abruptly rooted to the spot. "No. We're the same...you and I--" and that voice, low and rough, brings back that odd static. (Or is it the sense of _power_ that's suddenly rising around him that's conjuring up that sensation again? He's honestly not quite sure.) "And them," the man goes on, waves a hand dismissively in the direction of the bodies that litter the floor around them.  
  
A hand with _claws_ , a hand that seems to shimmer with hellfire--  
  
He can't help but follow its movement, swallows shakily again and rears back when the closest body he sees has a face that is decidedly _not_ human.  
  
"But," he hears the words almost at his ear now, the stranger now using the space afforded by no longer being firmly pinned to sit up and just _look_ at him in something very like amusement, "I suspect you carry something _different_ from the others," and that hand's now gripping his chin with fingers that he swears weren't normal a moment ago, forcing him to make eye contact again, and he's only faintly aware he's gasping through parted lips in an attempt to try and calm himself at the intensity of that gaze. "Something I suspect _I_ will be keeping a very close eye on."  
  
He nearly asks, even despite his better judgment, but his voice is frozen in his throat and he can't even protest when suddenly _he's_ the one pinned flat on his back on the floor.  
  
It's not really clear how long they just stare at one another - it's impossible to keep track of time like this - but eventually the man exhales a noise that sounds irritatingly like a laugh, leans in closer, and seems to _delight_ in the way Nero's pupils dilate and his breathing accelerates. "Something I will _definitely_ be keeping a very close eye on," he amends his previous words, pushes himself up enough that he can clamber to his feet but doesn't rise just yet, a most irritating smirk coming to the corners of his lips. "So you'd better stay out of trouble, yeah? Can't have you go getting yourself killed or something."  
  
Lazy irritation wends its way through Nero's mind, his voice finally finding itself free of whatever invisible fetters held it. "Why? You want to kill me yourself?"  
  
An outright laugh escapes the man now, and he leans down till his lips rest against Nero's, whispering hotly. "What if I do?"  
  
Nero's eyes widen, and he _shatters_.  
  
He's alone when he can think again, shaking and panting with guilty shame sitting heavy in the back of his throat, stumbling to his feet as he tries very hard _not_ to think about the wet sticky mess he's made of his pants - or about any of what's just happened, really, trying to relegate it all to the back of his mind where he can quickly forget about it. He has more important things to do right now, anyway - he has to catch up with Kyrie and Credo, he has to see if the innocents all got out of there safely, he has to - has to--  
  
( _"What if I do?"_ he hears again in his head, and it makes him shiver, biting back a whimper--)  
  
\--he has to find out just _who_ that man is, and make him pay for what he's done.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No matter how hard he tries, Nero can't get the encounter with Dante off his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second prompt, ahoy!
> 
> Nero's such a mess and I love it.
> 
> (And let's be fair - I almost had him jerking off with the Devil Bringer - but no, I think I'll save that for later... :3c)

_**Prompt #2 - Leather**  
_

* * *

It's said that smell can be one of the most powerful triggers for memory.  
  
(Nero certainly believes that. How can he not, when he's experienced it for himself?)  
  
He's remembering now, in fact - his senses are especially sharp today, as if the world around him has suddenly been enchanted and intensified, and even simply pulling on the glove that covers his demonic hand has sent him almost reeling from the smell of worn leather. It brings him back to the rage, to the terror, to the _heat_ that had overwhelmed him so thoroughly when he'd faced off against that red-clad man only a few days before, and struggle as he might to ground his mind in the _present_ , it only becomes stronger the more he attempts to ignore it.  
  
He doesn't understand it. He doesn't _want_ to. He just wants it to go away--  
  
"Nero," Kyrie's voice jerks him from his nightmarish trance with a start, and he can't help but flinch in surprise when she puts her hand on his arm, looks up at him with eyes full of concern. "You seem...distracted. Are you all right?"  
  
_No_ , he thinks bitterly, but he has the sense still to bite it back, taking a deep breath and forcing his voice neutrally even. "Yeah. Just...thinking about something."  
  
She studies him, gives him a sympathetic smile. "The - incident?"  
  
It takes all his focus to tamp down the spiraling panic, to remind himself that she doesn't _know_ what happened after she and Credo left the chapel, and for a long moment he doesn't answer, mouth twisting into something almost the start of a snarl. Yes, she doesn't _know_ , she doesn't _need_ to know-- "I don't _understand_ it," he says finally, sourly, feels a throb of _something_ from his concealed arm and it's all he can do not to react to it. "Who was that man? What exactly did he _want_?"  
  
Why did he leave? Will he come back? When? What will he do then?  
  
Heat pools in Nero's groin when the last question crosses his mind, and he's forced to bite back a curse as his cheeks flush red with the answers his imagination is all too happy to provide.  
  
Kyrie, thankfully, takes the color rising on his face for anger, and her other hand joins the first, wrapping gently around his human arm for a reassuring squeeze. "We'll find the answers, Nero," she tells him soothingly, keeps looking up at him with that gentle smile he's always been so fond of. "It'll be all right. Why don't you go get some rest? You've been working so hard, after all..."  
  
Nero breathes deep, closes his eyes for a moment, forcing back the insistent thoughts that are making his knees go irritatingly weak. "...Yeah. I think I will...thank you, Kyrie."  
  
She looks like she doesn't know why he's thanking her, but she just squeezes his arm again and then reluctantly lets go. "Try to feel better, okay?"  
  
He nods, manages the barest hint of a smile himself and turns to go.  
  
By the time he reaches his room, however, rest is the farthest thing from his mind.  
  
The door has hardly closed behind him before he's reaching desperately down, clawing at his belt and pants in his frenzied haste to undo them, and the sound he makes when he can _finally_ take himself in hand is wild and animalistic, his head falling back against the door as his eyes haze over. This isn't _right_ , he manages to think, he shouldn't do this - but that all-consuming need is far stronger than his rational mind could ever be, leaving him far too frantic to even think about stopping himself.  
  
More, he needs _more_ \--  
  
The pulse from his demonic arm is growing, getting more insistent, and even if he had the mind to try, he wouldn't be able to resist.  
  
The sling is quickly thrown aside, letting him raise that hand freely, and he buries his face in the gloved palm and inhales the smell of leather with a guttural groan; it brings with it memory again, the recollection of burning want, the feel of the man's body against his as they'd grappled in midair, the air around them redolent with blood and leather and _desire_ \- and in moments he's lost, he's undone, biting into the glove to stifle his cries as his hips jerk into every rough stroke of his hand over his aching cock. He won't last, he can't last like this, and he doesn't even care, too mindless to do anything but chase the promise of sweet release.  
  
He's almost - _almost_ \--  
  
(" _What if I do?_ ")  
  
And it consumes him, fire in his veins, his entire body rigid with the force of it as he breaks, spilling himself in frantic pulses over his shaking hand.  
  
When he can think again, when the shame overwhelms him, he can't stop the bitter tears.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's all Dante can do to hold himself back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is entirely, entiiiiirely, [Featherhead](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Featherhead)'s fault - she suggested I try out Dante's point of view for this one, and hey, I wasn't about to pass that one up.
> 
> Don't ask where he got the pizza, either. It was probably two days old and stashed in one of his pockets. Bleah.

_**Prompt #3 - Restraint** _

* * *

 The pelting of footsteps, the frenzied shouting from the streets, doesn't draw Dante's attention away from his meal in the slightest.  
  
He simply finishes the last bite of the pizza slice he's holding (extra cheese; piled high with pepperoni, sausage and ham; a few too many olives for his liking though he eats them anyway) and licks sauce from his fingertips, only then shifting to gaze down over the edge of the roof he's currently lounging on, the briefest of smirks tugging at the corner of his mouth at the sight of the white-garbed stampede below. Honestly, he wants to laugh, and he's wanted that every single time they've gone by up until now - how _simple_ it's proving to mislead them, to give them an entirely false idea of where he might be hiding, while he merely _observes_ as they get it wrong over and over and over again.  
  
It's a cruel joke, a game of cat and mouse, and he's loving every instant.  
  
He waits for them to pass, licks his fingertips once more and then casually rises, making his way across rooftops and down through alleyways until he's reached a somewhat more secluded area, one he's been coming back to since the events of a few days prior - it's been child's play to track Nero's whereabouts, to see what places he frequents at what times of day, and he knows that when the sun starts to slip behind the distant castle's towers, the boy will be here within minutes to try and hide from the rest of the world for a while.  
  
He glances around, then conceals himself and waits, unmoving, because he can feel the by-now-familiar presence approaching.  
  
Nero seems especially agitated today, his face heavily flushed, and he throws the book in his hand disrespectfully to the grass instead of sitting down to read, instead opting to pace on legs that seem hardly able to bear his weight; it's a baffling look, so far removed from the wild, tempting fury that's usually there instead, and it nearly catches Dante off guard enough to make his presence known before he can remind himself now isn't the time to play his figurative hand. Something has clearly happened, and it's not going to do either of them any good to try and insert himself into the situation without having all the details.  
  
He doesn't have long to wait, anyway, because almost as soon as he pushes away the thought of interfering, Nero begins to speak to the empty air in harsh panting gasps.  
  
" _I hate you_ ," he hisses, gulps air in what looks suspiciously like desperation, shaking his head hard and clenching his human hand into a tightly anguished fist. "What have you _done_ to me - what the _hell_ have you done, you bastard, why can't I stop - _thinking_ about you--" he stops pacing, takes another gulping breath and he's in just the right position for one particularly sluggish sunbeam to glide down his front--  
  
_Oh_ , Dante thinks as his eyes follow that sunbeam and fix on the front of Nero's pants, as realization dawns, and he knows he _probably_ shouldn't be smirking like he is at the situation, but the knowledge that he's just learnt something particularly interesting is entirely too delicious.  
  
But still more delicious yet is when Nero _gives in_ , sinks into a helpless sprawl with another breathless swear and nearly ruins the zip of his pants in his haste to free himself, his teeth sinking into his lip hard enough to draw blood as he closes his fingers round himself and arches into the touch - his movements are rough, lacking finesse, pure desperation mixed with the unrefined teenage intensity that Dante remembers all too well from his own youth, and he's not sure if it's the memory of it or simply the sheer _need_ etched into every line of Nero's body that's tempting him as much as it is right now. Either way, it's all he can do not to blow his cover, to stay where he is and simply _watch_ as Nero brings himself to a shuddering sobbing climax, the scent of arousal and the sense of power so heavy in the air he can nearly taste it.  
  
He licks his lips unconsciously, finds himself reaching ever so carefully down to palm his own erection through his pants, the shock of pleasure skittering up his spine like lightning. _No_ , he tells himself silently, _not yet. Not yet_.  
  
(If he's honest with himself, that's the hardest damn order he's _ever_ had to follow in his life.)  
  
"I hate you _so much_ ," and Nero's words are sobs now, bitter anger thick on his tongue, his whole body shaking with emotion as he wipes his hand roughly across the grass in an attempt to clean away the sticky white that streaks his skin. "The least you could do - is have the fucking decency - to _come back_ \--"  
  
Swallowing slightly, the heat between his legs a heavy longing now, Dante shifts minutely in his hiding place and takes a calming breath, once more reminding himself - _not yet_.  
  
Thankfully, or perhaps disappointingly, Nero says nothing more - the rush of emotion finishes spending itself on a furious effort not to cry outright, and he's soon subsided back into frustrated silence as he cleans himself up as best he's able, sets himself in order and gets to his feet, retrieving his book with jerky movements that suggest he's only temporarily subdued the feelings raging inside of him; looking around once more, as if he hopes to _find_ something, he inhales slowly and shakes his head when of course he sees nothing of interest, trying his hardest to let the tension out of his shoulders as he turns to leave.  
  
Only once agitated footsteps have long since faded away does Dante emerge from hiding, glancing about him almost furtively before moving to the spot where Nero's desperation took him, settling onto the ground still warm from lingering body heat and letting his head fall back as he palms himself once more.  
  
"...Come back, huh?"  
  
He lets himself smirk, closes his eyes and gives up on fighting the urge to indulge.  
  
"Alright. If that's what you want...then count on it, kid."

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They finally meet again, and this time there won't be any getting away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp. I believe a great many of you will now join in a resounding chorus of "about goddamn TIME", and well, you're not wrong.
> 
> (They're going to fuck next chapter, I promise.)
> 
> Snark snark snarkity snark, also. I love the mass amounts of snark these two tend to inspire in one another. :D

_**Prompt #4 - Loss of Control** _

* * *

When Nero meets Dante again, he is in the midst of turmoil.  
  
The frightening desire has not left him, not even faded, but his pain and anger are enough to temper it for the moment, that demonic presence stirring restless in the depths of his mind with demands he cannot understand but instinctively _knows_ ; it craves blood, it craves destruction, revenge and the thrill of battle, and as he is right now those feral instincts are nearly impossible to resist.  
  
Still, he tries--  
  
\--and yet, as he stares into eyes familiar-yet-not and feels the rage swelling within him, he can feel even the most tenuous grasp on what little control he has slipping rapidly away.  
  
He needs to flee, he realizes dimly. He needs to _leave_ while he can still think enough to do it.  
  
"Get out of my way. I don't have time for this," he snarls, the faintest hint of distortion in his voice that he doesn't even comprehend, and he'd _almost_ swear he sees a spark of interest in those eyes before he pushes roughly by and makes to go, but then a hand is on his shoulder and jerking him to a stop in midstep and he is too immediately furious to entertain that thought any longer. How dare this man touch him, lay hands on him, after what he's _already_ done-- "Did you hear me," not a question, and he spins, clenches his demonic hand into a fist, somehow managing to be both shocked and infuriated when the punch he aims for that serious face completely misses its mark. "I don't have _time_ to be playing around with you--!"  
  
"Neither do I," comes the response, holding little of the jocular lightness from their first encounter, and it's enough to give him just the _slightest_ moment of pause, faltering just long enough for a hand to seize his wrist and pull him closer so their eyes meet again - he freezes, gasps in a breath that is anger and fear and _longing_ all at once and can't even think to pull away, feeling unnervingly spellbound by the power of that gaze. "So I'll cut to the chase."  
  
He can't _move_ for a moment, he can hardly even breathe, but then intent eyes fall to the pulsating light that emanates from his demonic arm, and _something_ overwhelms him completely when that restraining grasp on his wrist shifts to his hand instead.  
  
He can feel power, so much power, and--  
  
"I'm here for the sword," Dante tells him, tightens that hold still more and pulls him _closer_ , until the feel of hot breath on his lips awakens the gnawing hunger within him even further. "But more than that...I'm here for _you_."  
  
The hellfire within him surges, and Nero feels his consciousness fracture.  
  
He isn't even aware he's in motion until that motion _ends_ , until he's got Dante pinned to the nearest wall with his own body, and by then he can't even hope to stop himself - all he can do is simply give in, pushing himself up onto his toes and fisting his human hand into silvery hair, and when their lips meet in a clumsy biting kiss and Dante's mouth _opens_ for him, he knows he's lost and he can't bring himself to care.  
  
(How _could_ he, when this is what he's wanted, what he's needed, and he can finally _have_ it--)  
  
He nearly sobs, tries to push himself closer still even though there's not the slightest whit of space between them, and he's panting out sharp little noises as Dante's hands close firmly over his hips, bracing him while he shamelessly grinds himself against the firm thigh that's casually situated itself between his trembling legs. It's good, so _good_ , the heat and the closeness and he wants more even if he's not quite sure _what_ that more is - and Dante knows it, the infuriatingly observant man that he is, head soon turning to separate their mouths just enough to speak with a sympathetic smile. "Hey, settle down. I'm not going anywhere, I'll take care of you."  
  
Nero dimly thinks he ought to feel _patronized_ by those words, but somehow he only feels warmer, something fluttery and almost nervous in the pit of his stomach tempering the need that's threatening to so fully devour him, and he can finally manage gasping speech. "I...I--"  
  
"I know," Dante says, surprisingly gently, brings a hand up to cup Nero's cheek and force their eyes to meet. "I've been there, kid. I know how you feel right now. Just trust me, yeah?"  
  
Trust is the last thing Nero expected to feel for this man, frankly, and so he surprises himself when he nods, taking a breath that shudders almost unbearably harsh in his chest.  
  
"That's it. Just breathe." Dante's voice is hypnotic, soothing, relieving some of the terrible _ache_ that still burns in him, and Nero offers no protest save for a distracted whine when he's shifted, their positions reversed so that he's the one with his back to the wall and can look hazily down at the utterly _enticing_ sight that is Dante kneeling before him; it sends a frisson of excitement through him, something that demonic presence apparently feels hellbound to respond to, and no sooner has Dante got his pants undone enough to free him than he's reaching, curling power-bright claws into tousled hair with an insistent tug. He wants, gods above he _wants_ \- and he doesn't have to wait long, Dante locking eyes with him and _smirking_ before swallowing him to the very hilt, a low smug noise resonating around his cock that sends incandescent sparks flooding through every inch of him.  
  
He feels himself breaking, but this time, he welcomes it, letting the pleasure consume him.  
  
When he can think again, he's slumped in Dante's lap, in his arms, curled against him and panting for breath while a reassuring hand rubs gentle circles between his shoulderblades; he feels blissful, exhausted, and it's all he can do to raise his head a little, meeting the ice-blue stare that he realizes now thrills instead of infuriates. "I," he starts, swallows hard and feels himself blushing, though he does his best to ignore that. "You - I - why..."  
  
"Because," is Dante's flippant reply, and he snorts a laugh when Nero's expression turns petulant, but quickly goes serious. "I told you, kid - I've been there. Right on the edge of sanity, just that one little step from losing it completely. Only difference is, _I_ didn't have anyone to work me through it. Couldn't let that happen to you," he half-shrugs, can't resist ruffling sweat-damp hair and is back to the usual lighthearted smirk when Nero pushes away from him with the most indignant of noises. "Anyway, that's not the point. You cooled off now?"  
  
Nero hesitates halfway to his feet, takes stock of himself for a long moment - it's almost overwhelming, really, when he realizes he _does_ feel so much better, and he's forced to sit right back down again for a moment until it can sink fully in. "...Yeah. I think so." A pause, a slow, deep breath, and then he looks at Dante again. "Wait, what about--"  
  
"Not this time." Dante shakes his head, levers himself to his feet and offers a hand, and if he doesn't let go for longer than necessary after he's pulled Nero up as well, neither one of them is calling any attention to that. "You have something more important to do right now. But once all that's over with - you can have me. All of me. Promise."  
  
"...I'm gonna hold you to that." Nero takes another deep breath, welcomes the calm that spreads through him, and when Dante smiles at him, he can't help but smile back just a little. "Guess this is where I should thank you, huh?"  
  
"Nah. Save it; I'm nowhere near done helping you yet. And hey, hold onto that sword for me." Dante claps him on the shoulder, turns away before he can see the surprise that statement brings. "But you _can_  give me one thing. Your name."  
  
The inanity of the situation is almost too much - the realization that they've come this far and haven't even _introduced_ themselves to each other - and Nero swallows a laugh, shaking his head a few times. "...Nero. You're Dante, right?--" and saying it feels so _comfortable_ , a feeling that nearly frightens him, sends him turning on his heel to go. Dante's right, anyway; he has a job to do, and he'd best go do it.  
  
"Not a bad name," he nonetheless finds himself saying as he leaves, steps quick and light now that the weight of frustration is gone.  
  
Dante chuckles at that, folds his arms, and even though Nero's out of earshot by the time he responds, he says the words anyway.  
  
"Neither is yours."


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's finally all over with, and they can finally have one another completely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoooooooo boy.
> 
> First off, apologies this one took a while - the beginning bits were not wanting to work out in the least, but well, couldn't get to the good stuff without them...
> 
> Second: this is actually, quite honestly, one of the most explicit things I've ever actually written, if not THE most. Sincerest apologies if some of it gets a bit awkward as a result. I'm more used to just kind of glossing things over than describing them outright, haha.
> 
> Third: it's (hopefully) just gonna get better from here. Buckle up, dear readers.

_**Prompt #5 - Possessiveness** _

* * *

 "Nero," Kyrie says softly, taking his hand in a gentle clasp, as the two of them look out over the city. "You should go to him."  
  
The unexpected words startle Nero, and he's unable to respond for a long moment, nervousness drawing his shoulders tight with a thread of tension while he tries valiantly to pretend he can't feel his face growing hot. She can't _possibly_ know, can she - what's happened between him and Dante, the promise they've made - but he supposes he can't actually discount the possibility, and it's all he can do to force down a thread of rising panic, pretending to be very interested in the way the setting sun is painting the sky velvety red. "...Maybe later," he finally answers when she looks up at him in mild concern for his silence, giving her hand a slight apologetic squeeze but not meeting her eyes. "I...look, he's probably busy. Cleaning up the rest of his part of the mess. We all need to cool off a little and get some rest, anyway - I'm _sure_ I'm not the only one who's exhausted after all of that, so..."  
  
She just keeps looking, something wholly unconvinced in her expression that he refuses to acknowledge because it rattles him so deeply, her lips pursed just a little as if she's about to scold him. (He almost wishes she would; at least then it'd be over with.) "Nero..."  
  
"I'm not avoiding him!" Nero can't stop the defensive protest as it bursts out of him, never mind that she didn't even _say_ anything that would even remotely hint at that, and by the time he realizes it's far too late to take it back, his cheeks flaring brilliantly red and his free hand automatically coming up to rub sheepishly at his nose. "I, uh - t-that's not what I - please stop looking at me like that. Please? It's not what you think--" and he's just _babbling_ now, but he can't make himself stop that either, even as he's internally horrified at the way he's clearly just digging himself into a bigger hole. "I--"  
  
" _Nero_ ," she cuts him off firmly, pulls her hand from his and puts her finger to his lips to stem the flow of nervous words, a tolerant smile on her face now. "Listen to me for a minute?"  
  
He stammers wordlessly for a moment longer, shifts his gaze away a little and finally manages to take a breath that _doesn't_ shudder painfully in his chest. "...Yeah?"  
  
Her smile turns amused, and she points off to the side, biting back a laugh when his eyes follow the motion and he briefly tenses in surprise. "He's _waiting_ for you."  
  
"...Right. I knew that." Nero reddens further still, clears his throat roughly and pretends he doesn't hear the helpless giggles she's burst into, running a hand awkwardly through his hair as he tries to calm himself a bit. It's not working too well; he feels a little lightheaded, jittery excitement tugging at the back of his mind, and it's really all he can do to keep his legs _and_ his voice both somewhat steady. "Kyrie - I, uh--"  
  
"Go _on_ ," she says, full of fond exasperation and mirth, gives him a gentle shove. "Don't keep him waiting."  
  
How much does she _know_ , he wonders again - but suddenly, that doesn't matter. "...Yeah. Right - yeah. Thank you."  
  
He doesn't have to look to know she's still smiling at him as he turns to go.  
  
Neither one of them speaks for a while, not until they're well away from the city and the sounds of hustle and bustle have faded to peaceful quiet, and it's Nero who eventually breaks that silence as they're taking in the evening scenery, inhaling a nervous breath and looking up at Dante. "So, uh--" he pauses, valiantly ignoring the color flooding his cheeks, but he does make the concession of shaking his head harshly once as if that might banish the awkwardness. "...I'm guessing I'm not the only one who's glad that's - all _over_ with." --and he promptly feels idiotic for saying it, even if it _is_ true, but at least it's conversation?  
  
Dante snorts softly, amused, shakes his head and puts a hand on Nero's shoulder, a small quirk of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Damn straight you're not the only one," he agrees, and for a moment he looks like he might laugh, but then he's abruptly serious as he turns to face Nero completely, taking hold of both his shoulders and just _looking_ at him for a moment - there's something in his eyes that's not quite identifiable, sharp and soft and smoldering all at once, and somehow it makes Nero's heart _ache_ so strongly he's forced to lower his gaze lest it overwhelm him. "Kid - Nero, hey. Look. You scared the hell out of me--" quiet, intense, like he's afraid to speak any louder. "...I'm glad you got out of there okay."  
  
If he's honest, Nero's been half-expecting that - and even though he told himself he wouldn't cry, his eyes are starting to well up and he can't stop it. "...Yeah. So...so am I."  
  
Dante smiles a little, sympathetically, lets go of his shoulders to pull him close, a reassuring hand tangling into his hair as he buries his face in the conveniently available shoulder right before him. "Let it go, Nero. It's alright."  
  
He wants to protest, but the tears are coming anyway, and all he can do is let it happen.  
  
Dante says nothing, just continues to hold him till he calms, and he's deeply grateful for that when he finally lifts his head again, roughly sniffling back the last of the tears and drying his eyes with an embarrassed swipe of sleeve. "I'm sorry," he finds himself saying before he realizes he's even going to speak, takes a slow breath and pulls away enough to look up at Dante, silently relieved when he sees no judgment in the man's expression. "I guess I - it's finally all started to sink in. But I'm okay...really."  
  
Dante is quiet for a moment, finally nods with a reassuring smile, one that makes Nero's heart almost skip a beat when he sees it. "Yeah. You're a strong kid - you'll be just fine." And just like that, it seems the serious mood simply melts away, that smile turning into more of a smirk as he settles a hand on Nero's waist and leans in a little closer, almost tauntingly. "But enough of that, huh? I believe there's a promise we need to keep?"  
  
Memory rises within Nero's mind and he immediately flushes brilliantly red, but he's _not_ about to pass that up, especially not with Dante's goddamn tempting mouth _right there_ and ripe for the claiming - and claim it he does, clumsily, fiercely, fisting his human hand into Dante's coat for support as he pushes himself closer; Dante responds eagerly this time, clamps possessive hands firmly onto his hips and pulls him in so they're pressed against one another, and he can't help but gasp out a pleading little noise at the spark of _need_ that goes through him at the contact.  
  
He's lost already, and he welcomes it wholeheartedly.  
  
"Easy - easy, I've got you," Dante murmurs against his lips, low and rough, but it's so _hard_ to calm down in the slightest when they're pressed together like this and so he doesn't even try, just rocks his hips demandingly and makes another helpless sound at the delicious friction. If he's perfectly honest with himself, he's been thinking about this, _dreaming_ about it, ever since their last meeting, and now having the chance to see if his fantasies match up with reality at all - he can't resist that, reluctantly breaking away from the kiss and gasping to catch his breath, sinking down to his knees and looking up at Dante, pupils already blown wide with helpless, desperate arousal.  
  
"I - can I..." he starts, finds he doesn't have the words and just swallows nervously, making an awkward gesture to hopefully convey his meaning.  
  
Thankfully, Dante gets it, and it's such a _treat_ to see his eyes widen, to hear his breath hitch a little and his throat work near soundlessly for just a moment before he can manage to speak. "Hell yes," he finally says, hoarsely, and he's already reaching to undo his belt and pants before Nero can even blink, quickly freeing himself (he's not _wearing_ anything underneath, Nero dimly realizes, and that might just be one of the hottest things he has _ever_ thought about in his life.) "If you're sure about this--"  
  
Nero nods once, quick and jerky, stares with wide eyes for a moment and then reaches cautiously up to take Dante's cock in hand - it's hard and thick and _big_ , enough he can hardly get his fingers all the way round it, and for a moment he's almost not sure he can do this before the longing takes over again and pushes aside that worry. He'll manage, he's sure of it-- "Tell me if I - do something wrong," he manages, panting the words more than saying them, and then leans forward before Dante can even answer him, taking a deep breath. He'll start out slow, he thinks, taste it a little first, see what he thinks of all this before--  
  
\--and before he can even complete that thought, he's pushing it aside, his hormones _clearly_ having other ideas as he opens his mouth and takes Dante in as far as he possibly can.  
  
Dante lets out a choked curse, fists a hand into his hair, and the thrill that sends through him is absolutely indescribable; he'd never have thought he'd enjoy being _submissive_ like this, but it's turning him on more than he can even believe, and even that demonic presence is thrumming in the back of his mind with obedient _need_ at being so obviously dominated. It's like he's wanted this all along, _it's_ wanted this, and now the realization is hitting him so hard he can't do anything but moan helplessly, staring up at Dante from under his eyelashes and wondering just how he must look right now. On his knees, achingly hard, the biggest cock he's ever seen in his _life_ currently in his mouth - if anyone were to _see_ him right now...  
  
Even that thought thrills him, much to his hazy surprise.  
  
He can't think about it for long though, because then Dante's hips rock gently, fingers tightening into his hair, and the pressure at the back of his throat is unexpected enough he draws back a little, a tremble of something anxious going through him. Surely Dante isn't going to make him - but _god_ , he wants it so much, and he knows he's going to _try_ if he doesn't stop this right here and now, so he reaches shakily up to push Dante's hand away and sits back with a gasping breath. "Can't...stop...if I keep going," he manages, and he thinks he should feel embarrassed for saying it but instead it feels...oddly comfortable. "I - Dante, _please_. I want you, I - I want you to _take_ me, make me _yours_ \--"  
  
Now it's Dante's turn to look blindsided, pupils dilating just a little from what Nero knows from experience must be a downright debilitating wave of _want_ , and he doesn't speak for a few long moments, like he can't scrape together the coherency. When he does, though, it's a low, shaky _growl_ , and the expression on his face is rapidly going from surprise to something deliciously predatory, something that makes Nero shudder with anticipation. "...You're sure about that? You know what you're getting yourself into when you say that?"  
  
Nero swallows hard, takes as deep a breath as he can manage and nods once. "Yeah. I--" he starts, chokes off a little, inhales again and lets out words he never ever thought he'd say in his life. " _Fuck me_ , Dante. I need it. I need you."  
  
Dante's growl is pure sound this time, no words, and he hardly even seems to move but the next thing Nero knows, he's been pulled to his feet and is being kissed with a fierce intensity he didn't even know was possible.  
  
His mind's so clouded over with desire that he doesn't honestly know _when_ or _how_ his pants are undone, yanked down enough to expose him, and he hardly hears the little curses of frustration Dante's letting out while fumbling in a pocket, but then Dante's turning him and pushing him roughly forward against the stone railing - "bend over, hands on the rail," he hears in a possessive hiss at his ear, and he can't do anything but obey, thrilling at the shudder of pleasure he feels when he realizes just how vulnerable he is right now. There's so much Dante could do to hurt him, to humiliate him, and yet - he knows, he _trusts_ that won't happen, the knowledge a soothing warmth underneath everything else he's feeling.  
  
Now, how exactly to show that trust?  
  
He bites his lip briefly, then lets go of the rail, reaches back with the fiercest of blushes to spread himself open and _looks_ at Dante, pupils blown so wide his eyes are only the faintest ring of blue around desperate black. " _Dante_ ," he moans, almost manages to smirk when he sees the man visibly shiver, and wets his lips with a shaky swipe of tongue. "Come on, don't make me wait..."  
  
Dante groans, a low, delighted sound that rumbles in his chest, and nods once, reaching down to get himself slick with the palmful of gel Nero doesn't even actually know _when_ he procured. "Yeah - yeah. Try to relax--"  
  
"Not getting any more relaxed," Nero manages to shoot back as a firm hand settles on his hip, but anything else he might have said chokes off into a thin whine at the first hint of pressure, the slick head of Dante's cock nudging hard and hot against his hole.  
  
_He really is big_ , he finds himself thinking, almost in a panic--  
  
\--and then it's pushing forward, _in_ , and he can't think at all.  
  
"Easy now, c'mon," Dante groans above him, squeezes his hip a little, and some very distant corner of his mind realizes he must have tensed up from the unfamiliar sensations, but he can't seem to figure out how to relax again and for a fleeting moment he's almost certain this isn't going to work - maybe he was too eager, maybe he should have thought this through a little more - but then Dante's reaching under him and a streak of surprised pleasure jolts through him as still-slick fingers close around him, the tension shuddering out of him with a keening moan. That's better, that's exactly the distraction he needed - and then he feels Dante's hipbones settle against his ass, and he senses that hazy smirk on the man's face without even having to look. "There...we go. All the way in. How you holding up?"  
  
He tries to answer, but all that comes out is a pleading groan, and his hands fly to the rail again for the desperate handhold he suddenly needs when Dante's hips rock a little and that infuriatingly _lovely_ cock shifts inside of him.  
  
"Fuck me," he finds himself saying, _gasping_ really, barely audible, his pulse pounding desperately in his ears. " _Fuck me_."  
  
Dante exhales sound slowly, some mixture of breath and moan and possessive snarl, and does exactly that, pulling back only to bury himself again with a noise that defies description.  
  
The feeling of Nero's entire being just _shattering_ with pure delight is by now familiar, and he welcomes it gladly, pushing back against the movement with a fragile, needy cry.  
  
Now that they've truly got started, it's no slow affair, no gentle lovemaking - it's an animalistic rut, sharp and desperate and no-holds-barred, and it's exactly what Nero wants, what he _needs_ , his helpless cries filling the air and his hands clenched tight on the railing as Dante takes him, _claims_ him with savage thrusts and possessive growls that send that presence in the back of his mind absolutely swooning with pure ecstacy. There's so much to feel, so much new sensation and delight swirling inside of him that he's _positive_ he's not going to last, but he can't even think of why that might be the least bit embarrassing right now and so he's not even trying, just holding on tight enough that pulsing claws are digging needy gouges into the stonework as he's driven closer and closer to that figurative brink. He's getting so close, so _fucking_ close, and it feels like even the smallest thing could drive him over--  
  
" _Dante_ ," he manages, shrill, keening, almost sobs and scrabbles at the railing a little when a particularly harsh thrust threatens to make his knees give out. "I--"  
  
There's a hot breath on his ear, and then, rumbling almost too low for him to hear - " _Mine_."  
  
Release takes him in a burst of light across his vision, pure white radiance that swallows him completely, and he screams his completion to the last hints of sunset.  
  
He can dimly feel Dante shudder behind him a few moments later, reaching climax with little jerks of hip and panting growls, and if he were more coherent he might indulge in a little moment of smugness, but for the time being all he can do is just hang half over the railing and catch his breath, more drained than he ever knew was actually possible but not minding even an instant of it. Finally, _finally_ , it feels like whatever was screaming so helplessly deep inside of him since they first met has at last fallen silent - and he rasps out an unexpected laugh at that realization, tries to push himself up on shaking arms and doesn't quite manage it, just flopping back onto the railing with a tired grunt. "...You're...brutal," he pants, and he's smiling.  
  
"You asked for it," Dante points out, just as breathless but full of amusement, and draws back with greatest reluctance, giving Nero's hip a sympathetic pat when he groans at the sudden feeling of emptiness. "...Been a long time...since I had someone as good as you, kid. You should be honored."  
  
"I - wait, what?" Nero manages to push himself up successfully this time, turns to give Dante a look that's half surprise and half unamused annoyance. "When was--"  
  
Dante snorts a laugh, shakes his head like that's the most _adorable_ thing he's ever seen. "Years ago. Relax, I'm not about to run off and fuck someone else." --and he laughs again when Nero's expression twists in embarrassed indignance, reaching out to run a thumb along one flushed cheek in affectionate mirth. "C'mon, it's a _compliment_. Don't gimme that look."  
  
"Then don't talk about fucking other people in front of me." Nero doesn't even try to keep the jealousy from his tone, just takes a deep breath, straightening fully with an absent wince. Yeah, he's gonna be sore for a little while, but even that feels good at this point. "...I mean it. Keep a lid on that. Don't want to hear it - it's irrelevant, because you're - you're _mine_ now--" he promptly reddens deeply once the words pass his lips, but it's too late to try and take them back, and so he just swallows nervously and makes himself meet Dante's eyes. "...Got that?"  
  
"Yeah," Dante says, smirking at him, leaning in to press a brief biting kiss on him and breathing against his lips. "Yeah. I'm yours, Nero. All yours."  
  
Nero swallows a moan, bites at his lip and pulls away, eyes flashing a challenge. "You damn well better be."  
  
The only response he gets is a very slow smirk that makes him tremble all over.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nero's foul mouth can be a thing of beauty in the bedroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoooooooly shit it's an update!
> 
> I'm so sorry this one took as long as it did - life caught up with me, the words didn't wanna word, and that sort of thing. But here it is! Enjoy Nero's complete and total lack of vocal filter. I sure do.

_**Prompt #6 - Crude Language** _

* * *

One of the things Dante likes most about Nero is that he speaks his mind.  
  
It's fair to say that involves a _lot_ more swearing, impoliteness and general displeasure at anything and everything than it would from most people, but it's sort of refreshing, and by now it's almost more shocking when Nero _does_ make the effort to censor what comes out of his mouth (at least whenever Kyrie's not involved.) It's as much a part of _both_ their lives as anything, and at this point, Dante's not the least bit willing to try and make it change.  
  
To be fair, though - that's partly because of what _he_ gets out of it.  
  
(If Nero's got an obvious lack of filter in public, it's even _more_ pronounced in the bedroom, and they've both discovered by now that he really _likes_ to let the dirty talk run rampant whenever they're fucking. Dante is definitely not complaining--)  
  
He's brought out of his thoughts, though, by a brain-rattling smack upside the head, and he blinks a few times to drag himself back into the here and now, giving a halfhearted glare to the brightly glowing claws that are hovering threateningly near his face. That's also just like Nero, he thinks; why smack him with a normal hand when a demonic one will suffice? "Put that away unless you're going to use it," he says, swats it aside when Nero naturally makes to smack him again, and gives a wry smile. "Sorry. Got a little lost in thought there."  
  
"No shit. Obviously unfamiliar territory for you." Nero rolls his eyes, a slow motion of exquisite teenage annoyance, but there's no denying he _does_ look a bit amused when Dante snorts laughter with a small headshake. "Seriously, cut that out. The hell are you thinking about that's more interesting than _I_ am right now?"  
  
"Who says I wasn't thinking about you?" Well, it's not a _lie_ , and Dante relishes the flush that promptly rises to Nero's cheeks at the words, settling back to undo his belt and pants and smirking as intent eyes follow his every motion. He'll never tire of the way Nero looks at him, watches him as if to devour him with sight alone; it's a rush no drug could ever hope to match, and he's honestly willing to do just about anything to get more of it. "I was just wondering--" lifting up enough to shove his pants down over the points of his hipbones so he can wriggle out of them. "--how much soap I'm gonna be force-feeding you after we're done here. Gotta wash out that potty mouth of yours, huh?" Yeah, he's baiting Nero, and he's not at all ashamed.  
  
Especially because there has never once been a time Nero's failed to rise to the bait, and this is no exception.  
  
"Oh, you want me to clean up my act, huh? How about no, hell no, and _fuck_ no." Anyone watching them without the necessary context would _probably_ think Nero was genuinely pissed off, but there's the faintest hints of amusement underneath it all, tempering what sounds like indignant rage into what passes for flirting when it comes from him. "I don't go in for _stifling_ myself, you know? Spent enough goddamn time doing that growing up. You want me to put up and shut up...you _make_ me do it." He reaches out, takes hold of Dante's chin in claws that pulsate greedily with light, leaning in to smirk just inches from the man's face and letting out a soft amused huff at the return smirk he gets. "As if you even _would_...you like it too damn much, don't you? When I just can't _control_ myself any more, when you hear all those things I say that'd get me sent to hell ten times over if I said 'em to anyone else. You fucking _love_ it, don't you?" --and he's grinning outright now, baring his teeth, because they both know that doesn't actually need an answer.  
  
And it doesn't get one. All Dante has to do is keep smirking, and just _wait_.  
  
It's not even ten seconds before Nero's in his lap, kissing him hard and deep and messy as if trying to _devour_ him, and he lets out a noise that's half possessive growl and half amused laughter as he opens his mouth a little more, feels greedy teeth catch on his lower lip in a stinging bite as he's pushed down to lay flat on his back. Damn, but Nero's _so_ easy to get started, and the results always end up being so amazing he can't even feel bad for teasing the kid like he does. "Nn," he says around the bite, casual and cheerful, just the tiniest hint of a request, and he's amused at Nero's derisive snort before that eager mouth leaves his with obvious reluctance. "Pretty worked up today, aren'tcha? I like that."  
  
"Whose fucking fault is that, asshole?" Nero's voice is a snarl, but he can't fully pretend anger with as obviously _needy_ as he is, and so he drops the furious tone in favor of something dark and smoldering on his next words. "You get off on this, don't you? Getting me all worked up, making me lose control like this - makes you _so_ damn hard, doesn't it?" He gives another one of those teeth-baring grins, rocks his hips against Dante's, as if proving his point. "Yeah, I bet if I keep on going like this, you're gonna fucking come without me even laying a single finger on you. Wouldn't _that_ be the ultimate humiliation - knowing you got so horny over my foul mouth that my _voice_ alone made you lose it. I think I wanna see that," and he rocks again, turns it into more of a shuddering grind, his head falling back at the wave of pleasure. "But not now. I got _plans_ for you. Plans that involve that goddamn amazing dick of yours up my ass before I scream in the _bad_ way."  
  
Dante huffs out a laugh, pretends it didn't break on a groan when Nero's demonic hand closes in a firm grasp on his hip, claws pricking at the skin just enough to sting pleasantly. "Be my guest. You know I'm yours for the taking."  
  
"You really are an asshole," Nero tells him in a choked hiss, twisting and fumbling in the nightstand drawer for the lube.  
  
"Yeah, I know." Putting his hands behind his head, Dante grins, looking the very picture of relaxation but for the fact he's so hard it _aches_. Nero's not wrong; he loves this, and he really wouldn't mind being talked to orgasm once some of the frenzy has worn off enough they can both think straight, but for now... "You gonna show off for me while you're getting ready?"  
  
Nero takes a quick, shuddering breath, locks eyes with him, looking rather indignant and desperate both at once. "Fuck you."  
  
"Maybe after you calm down--" But Dante doesn't get any further, because Nero's fingers are now slick and he's lifting himself up to reach down, and speech _very_ quickly falls to the wayside in favor of watching him.  
  
It's an exquisite sight; it always is. Nero's learned very well how to tease himself, how to put on the most arousing show while he works trembling fingers deep inside himself to open that yearning hole, and he's not the least bit ashamed of the low possessive noises he's making as he enjoys the show, curling his hands loosely into the sheets so he won't be tempted to touch. (He's discovered Nero gets _so_ embarrassed if he's touched while he's showing off, and it's not worth the very real possibility of derailing everything.) Still, it's so hard to resist, and he's even panting a little when Nero finally slips those fingers out of himself and locks eyes with him again. "If I didn't know any better--" low, teasing, with a curl of a smirk that he knows will make Nero tremble. "I'd say you were getting off on this too."  
  
"Fuck you," Nero says again, high and breathy, uses the remaining lube on his hand to coat Dante's erection, eyes narrowing a little in smug delight as that makes the man shudder. "No, never mind, I take that back. Fuck _me_ \--" and he doesn't even give Dante a chance to answer, straddling his hips again and sinking down onto his cock with a shrill keening noise.  
  
Any control Dante had left breaks completely at that, and he _growls_ , hands uncurling from the sheets, gripping Nero's waist almost tight enough to bruise. "You sure about that?"  
  
" _Fuck me_ , god damn it--" Nero's panting, shivering, pupils blown wide and face flushed with need; it's a beautiful sight. "Drive me out of my fucking _mind_ , I want your goddamn dick pounding into me so hard I can't do anything but come for you - _please_ , Dante, please--"  
  
There's no way in hell Dante can resist that, and so he doesn't.  
  
He tightens his hold on Nero's waist, thrusts up against him _hard_ and growls again in pleasure when Nero whines and pushes eagerly down to meet the movement, and settling into the punishing rhythm seems the easiest thing in the world. "Look...at you...losing yourself like this," he manages, a breathless hiss, and he can't help but feel a distant little wave of smugness when Nero's hands grab helplessly at his arms for something to hold on to, the hazy look in wide blue eyes suggesting he feels like he might fall off the face of the planet if he can't ground himself somehow. "You should...be ashamed of yourself. Getting off on...getting _me_ off like that...and now you're losing your _mind_...fucking yourself on my dick while I watch you. You're such a little--" and he breaks off into a sharp groan there, a mixture of pleasure and surprise that _he's_ getting so into this, giving an openmouthed smirk when Nero keens again and those brilliant claws dig into his arm hard enough to draw blood. "You're getting close, huh? Don't you dare hold back - let me _see_ you--"  
  
"I," Nero manages, a bare gasp of a moan, and his human hand unconsciously releases Dante's arm so he can wrap shaking fingers round his cock, letting out a guttural sound at the added sensation swirling through him. " _Dante_ \--"  
  
Dante nods once, shakily, since he can't manage speech in the face of just how _nice_ that is, and his nails dig in, leaving little red crescents on pale skin as he pulls Nero harshly down to meet the most ferocious thrust yet.  
  
The cry Nero lets out as he arches, as he _comes_ , is utterly angelic, and the sound of it combined with all the sensation proves to be enough to push Dante to release only a moment later.  
  
They just lay there for a while after Nero collapses atop him, panting harshly and shaking like the metaphorical leaf before the storm, and Dante eventually overcomes the sated exhaustion enough to flump a hand onto Nero's back, rubbing languid little circles over his spine till his breathing calms and he relaxes. "You really needed that, huh?" he finds himself saying, soft and sympathetic, and he can't help a silent little chuckle as Nero snorts and nips at his shoulder in mock irritation. "...Guess I did too, though. _Damn_ , but you got me going today. You need to do that again sometime."  
  
"No shit," Nero says around his mouthful of shoulder, huffs a sigh and lets go, lifting his head enough that their eyes can meet. "Why the _hell_ did I not know _you_ can talk dirty?"  
  
"Never came up. Unlike some other things." Dante cracks a grin, a bark of laughter escaping him when Nero groans and cuffs him upside the head (thankfully, with the _human_ hand this time.) "Surprised the hell out of me too, to be honest. Guess you just got me _that_ worked up this time. Be proud of yourself, I sure would if I were in your place."  
  
"You're proud of yourself anyway," Nero points out, lifts reluctantly off of him with a breathy moan, looking down and blushing a little at the sight of himself. Well-fucked, spattered with his own come, trembling a little from exhaustion - he's no narcissist, but he can definitely appreciate how good he looks like this. "You're still an asshole, by the way."  
  
Dante chuckles, settles himself comfortably, wrapping an arm around Nero when the quarter-devil flumps down and curls into his side. "Sure am. Don't ever expect it to change."  
  
Nero only snorts, eyes closing, and soon his breathing is soft and even, lulling Dante as well into a deep, relaxing slumber.

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nero really doesn't care for birthdays.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lawd have MERCY, this one got long as hell on me.
> 
> (The prompt also changed on me about halfway through - it _was_ going to be "biting", and that's what I wrote the earliest bits around, but then I ended up changing it to "striptease" because _god damn it_ , Dante. Not...that I'm complaining, mind you. Whoa boy.)
> 
> Also, I clearly have headcanons about what all they can do with their demonic power, because seriously, there's got to be some really fun stuff they can use it for...

_**Prompt #7 - Striptease** _

* * *

When the phone rings on Nero's nineteenth birthday, he seriously considers not answering.  
  
He knows there's only one person that can be on the other end of the line - Credo isn't _here_ to say it any more, and Kyrie's already quietly wished him a happy birthday when they woke that morning - and quite honestly, that's something he doesn't want to deal with right now. He'd rather just let the day pass in silence, pretending it's nothing special, pretending it's just like any other day...and he can't even really be _justifiably_ angry at anyone who'd think otherwise, because it's not like he's actually said anything outright. But even still, even _still_...  
  
He sighs heavily, glares at the phone as if he can make the ringing _stop_ just by sheer force of will, and reluctantly lifts the receiver to his ear when that doesn't work. "Fuck off."  
  
"Yeah, hello to you too." Dante's voice is full of lazy amusement, even distorted over a phone line, and the very _sound_ of it is enough to get Nero's hackles rising just a little. "Sure as hell took you long enough to pick up. What were you doing, trying to see how many fingers you can get in your--"  
  
" _Dante_ ," Nero interrupts him, a low snarl resonating in his voice. "What do you _want_."  
  
"Alright, alright, sorry," Dante concedes, letting the teasing tone drop. "I'm gonna be in town later - thought we could meet up once I've taken care of business. Around seven work?" --and he doesn't even wait for an answer before he goes on, as if he's perfectly convinced it's a sure thing. "By the way, heard today's your birthday. It'd be pretty rude to show up without a present for you, so maybe give me a few ideas?"  
  
Of course Dante would know. Of _course_ he would - and Nero's forced to grit his teeth, take a couple of deep breaths, trying to calm himself enough to say something that isn't a flood of profanity - but he's apparently silent for just long enough that when Dante next speaks, there's a tinge of concern in his voice. "Nero? Hey, you still there?"  
  
Nero takes another breath, finds it precisely as calming as the last few (that is to say, not at all), and gives up.  
  
"Bite me," he snaps, full of furious anguish, slamming the phone down before Dante can reply.  
  
He's cooled down considerably by the time they're supposed to meet, though, and he even feels a little guilty, almost slinking down the streets as he makes his way to their usual meeting spot and pretending he doesn't notice the disdainful looks he gets from most of the people he passes by. That's nothing new, no need to even think about it - and normally it wouldn't sting even the slightest bit, but he's so on edge today that _everything_ hurts, and he's privately a little glad when he arrives to see he's the first one there because it gives him some time to get a grip on himself. He's overreacting and he knows it, he can't even manage to feel justified in that, just sitting himself slowly down on a bench and trying to beat down his stubborn pride as forcefully as he can. He needs to apologize, he _knows_ that, and even though it's _embarrassing_ he's bound and determined to--  
  
"Hey, kid," Dante's voice interrupts his thoughts from nearby, and he lifts his head, looking over to see the man approaching him with one hand lifted in greeting, his usual easygoing smile on his face. "Sorry I'm a little late. Hope you weren't waiting too long."  
  
"...No, not really." Nero's proud the words come out as even as they do, and he even manages not to be terribly awkward as he gets to his feet, rubbing absently at the side of his nose in a gesture of unconscious embarrassment. "I, uh - Dante, look. About earlier, I--" he chokes off, expression twisting a little in nervous frustration, the words seeming to stick in his throat though he valiantly tries to free them. "I just - I - didn't mean to snap at you, I..."  
  
Dante waves a hand dismissively, still smiling, like he'd already forgotten _all_ about it, and for a split second Nero wants to punch that look right off his face, in a flare of reassuring normalcy. "Nah, don't sweat it. Already forgiven." And as usual, he isn't really giving any chance to respond at all, just turning with a little jerk of his head that invites Nero to follow. "C'mon. As much as I hate to say it, we don't have all night - I gotta head out early tomorrow. So let's get to it, yeah?"  
  
Nero _knows_ he's blushing, and quite fiercely at that, but he ignores the flare of heat in his cheeks and obediently trails after.  
  
Thankfully, for all that he seems to take greatest pride in being irritating and embarrassing the hell out of Nero, Dante does have _some_ sense of decency when it's most desperately needed, and the path they take to Fortuna's lone motel (which Nero has _never_ looked at quite the same since the first time Dante took him there and he discovered precisely what it tended to be used for) is carefully plotted so that no one can see them and get the wrong - or, well, right - idea; even more thankfully, the lady who always staffs the front desk doesn't seem to care a whit about who's there as long as they're a paying customer, and she doesn't do more than look briefly up from the magazine she's reading when they walk in. "Room's ready," she tells them in a most bored tone of voice, tosses a key to Dante before she looks back down and turns the page. "Same as usual."  
  
"You're a peach, babe." Dante snatches the key easily out of midair, gives her a playful salute and tugs Nero along after him, calmly pretending he hasn't noticed in the least that the blush has spread all the way up to the tips of Nero's ears in a most interesting clash with the pale white of his hair.  
  
It's only once they're in the room that Nero begins to calm, taking a few slow breaths and ruffling a hand through his hair, very pointedly _not_ looking at Dante as he locks the door behind them and moves to flop onto the bed with a pleased sound. "You know you're an asshole, right?" he finally says, takes one last deep breath and then turns to give Dante a most unamused stare, arms folded and posture slouched like he's not the least bit bothered. (If he's picked up _anything_ from Dante at this point, it's the ability to keep his body language from being completely readable _most_ of the time.) "You just like fucking with me."  
  
"Take out the 'with', and yeah, that's not wrong." Dante grins lazily, then barks a laugh and snatches for a pillow when Nero storms over, using it as a shield against a smack that would otherwise threaten to rattle his brains right out of his head. "You left yourself _wide_ open for that one, kid. Speaking of wide open, though--" and then he's serious, sitting up straight and indicating for Nero to sit as well. "I owe you something, don't I?"  
  
Nero slants a sideways glare at him, reluctantly sits. "Yeah, an _apology_ \--"  
  
"Nah, that's not what I meant. More like this." Dante slips an arm round his shoulders, pulls him close, and before he can react, there's a sharp and not entirely unpleasant sting radiating from where Dante's teeth have now closed onto the side of his neck.  
  
He does three things, almost all at the same time: he tenses, he sucks in a sharp breath, and then, most embarrassingly, he _whimpers_ at the flash of heat that goes through him.  
  
"You _did_ tell me to bite you," Dante murmurs when he lets go, amused, and licks over the marks he's left, effectively distracting Nero from any sort of coherent response. "I guess you could have said 'please', but far be it from me to refuse you anything today, huh?" (And even as much as the reminder of what today _is_ stings, that may just be one of the sweetest things Dante's ever _said_ to him, so Nero can't really get too mad.) "In fact, tell you what. Just for today, whatever you want goes. _Anything_. How's that sound?"  
  
Nero hesitates, makes a shuddery noise when Dante licks at the bite marks again, valiantly struggling to hold onto the fleeing shreds of his coherency. _Damn_ his sensitive neck-- "Anything, huh?" he finally manages, a little breathy, turning his head enough to look at Dante. "Absolutely anything? You mean that?"  
  
Dante nods, looking remarkably serious. "I mean it. Say the word, we'll do it."  
  
"...Two things, then." Nero takes a slow, deep breath, pulls away, locking eyes with Dante with a quite serious expression of his own. "First thing, you do _not_ kick up _any_ kind of fuss about my damn birthday, not _ever_ again--"  
  
Putting his hands up a little, Dante looks properly sheepish. "Alright, sorry--"  
  
"...Stop giving me that look, too. You look like a kicked puppy." Nero lets out a mildly exasperated sigh, shakes his head and goes on. "And the second thing. This time, _you're_ gonna be the one taking everything I have to give. You're gonna be the one begging for more, craving my dick up your ass while I pound you into the bed. You're gonna be the one screaming my name when I make you come so hard you can hardly remember who you are. No _problems_ with that, I hope?"  
  
Dante's _staring_ now, eyes a little wide, lips parted like he was about to make some sound but promptly forgot how, and quite honestly, it's the most arousing thing Nero's ever seen. "No problems," he says finally, low and rough, swallowing hard as if to push down a wave of pure desire and moving to start fumbling - _fumbling_ , him, the always steady and unflappable Devil Hunter - with various buttons and buckles to get undressed as quickly as possible, though he can't quite seem to get them undone. "Especially not if you keep talking to me like that." --and somehow he still manages a breathy little chuckle, though it holds a hint of something submissive Nero's never heard from him before.  
  
He wants, he realizes with a flare of possessive heat, to hear it again. A lot.  
  
"Yeah, I can do that." He smirks openmouthed, reaches out to take Dante's chin delicately in the points of his demonic hand's claws, thrilling in the pleased shudder he can _see_ go through the man's body and leaning in so their faces are mere centimeters apart. "You're gonna strip for me, yeah? Nice and slow. _Work it_. Drive me wild till I can't keep my hands off of you." Which likely won't be all that _long_ , to be fair, but he's bound and determined to get as much out of this opportunity as he possibly can - it's not every day he gets to make Dante submit to him like this, after all. "Go on - make it good," he finishes almost on a growl, lets go and steps back to watch intently.  
  
Rendered effectively speechless for the moment, Dante can only nod, getting to his feet and taking a slow breath as he sheds his coat, letting it fall to the bed behind him. "I think I _like_ this side of you," he manages finally, and his voice is even disgustingly _steady_ for as utterly desperate as he's looking right now, a contrast that gets Nero's hackles up just a little bit. "Do I get to see it more if I piss you off more often?" --of course he even has the temerity to _laugh_ when that makes Nero's eyes narrow, but he puts his hands up as if in surrender, clearly unwilling to push it too much. "Alright, alright. You want a show, you'll get it. Sit back and enjoy."  
  
"Stop _talking_ ," Nero grits out, folding his arms tightly, taking a seat on the nearby chair, "and start _stripping_ before I _rip_ those clothes off you."  
  
Dante pauses, mouth slightly open, takes a quick breath through his nose that makes his nostrils flare a little. "...That a threat or a promise?"  
  
"Do you have _any_ shame whatsoever?" Nero counters, eyes narrowing further.  
  
"Not a bit." Dante shrugs as if that's the most obvious thing in the world, reaches up to start unclasping the belts round his torso, eyes closing halfway and head tilting as if he's tuning into some music beyond the edge of human hearing. "Starting to think you don't either."  
  
(It's incredibly irritating that Nero honestly can't even _argue_ with that, but he bites his tongue hard before he can try anyway.)  
  
A slight smirk on his face now, Dante lets the belts fall open, grasps the pull to his shirt's zip and slowly tugs it down, swaying a little to whatever illusionary tune is in his head. "Been a long time," he murmurs, soft and almost wistful, "since I've done this--" and he's not even _looking_ to see Nero's face when the implication that he's done stripteases before sinks in, the shirt falling open and slipping from his shoulders as he arches forward a little, sliding his hands slowly down his sides to his waist. "Be easier with - hey, you know, I've got an idea--"  
  
"Didn't I tell you to shut up and get naked?" But Nero can't deny some curiosity, leaning his elbow on the chair's arm and resting his chin on his hand. "Fine, whatever. What's your damn idea so we can get back to business?"  
  
Dante smirks, holds up one finger and saunters over to the old radio by the window, flicking it on and fiddling with the dials for a moment until it begins to spit out music, crackly and distorted but still clear enough to be heard properly. " _There_ we go - can't perform properly without some accompaniment, hey?"  
  
Nero quirks an eyebrow, sits up straighter, unable to stop the surprised words that escape him. "Wait a minute. You're actually gonna fucking _dance_ for me?"  
  
"You bet," Dante agrees with a downright sinful grin, hooking a thumb into the waist of his pants as he returns to his spot before Nero. "So you'd better enjoy every last minute."  
  
His next breath comes a little shaky, and Nero only doesn't curse the fact that Dante can get to him so easily because he's sitting forward to watch hungrily, eyes sharp and intent.  
  
Maybe later he'll wonder just _how_ Dante got so good at this, but for now, he can't think about anything but the here and now - nothing but the way Dante's swaying, arching, _moving_ like he's making love to the music as he slowly divests himself of all his remaining clothing, and when he lets his head fall back and makes a little sound as he nudges his pants off the points of his hipbones, Nero finds himself echoing that sound and shuddering with a wave of _want_ so sharp he's honestly a little surprised he didn't just come. "You're a fucking bastard," he breathes, sits back before he can be tempted to reach out, licking his lips shakily and pretending he doesn't notice the smirk Dante looks up long enough to give him. " _Fuck_. Get the damn lube, get _over_ here, I want you _on_ me--"  
  
Dante breathes a laugh, kicks his pants aside and turns to rummage in a pocket of his discarded coat. "Maybe I should dance for you more often, if you're gonna be like this?"  
  
" _Yes_ ," Nero groans before he can stop himself, and it's a testament to how turned on he is that he doesn't even blush.  
  
"I'll keep that in mind then." Dante purrs the words more than actually speaks them outright, letting his hips sway teasingly with every step as he moves to stand in front of Nero's chair, kneeling before him with a grace that is _completely_ unfair in this situation and reaching up to undo his pants for him. "You just sit back and let me do the work. This is _your_ day, after all. Least I can do for you." He punctuates that with a wink, works Nero's cock free of his pants and flips open the lube one-handed, slicking him with casual, teasing strokes and looking amused at the gritted-teeth swear that earns. "I'd tell you to watch your mouth, but--"  
  
"Stop. _Teasing_. Me," Nero interrupts him in a hiss, barely audible, hips jerking a little as the pad of Dante's thumb runs teasingly over the tip of his cock. "If you make me come - before I'm even _in_ you - I swear I'm gonna kill you--"  
  
"That'd be a hell of a compliment," Dante points out, but agreeably releases him and stands again, only to sink into his lap with the most infuriatingly smug smirk known to mankind. "Nothing wrong with losing a little control. We've got the whole rest of the day ahead of us--" and he's grasping Nero's length even as he speaks, holding him in place to push smoothly down onto him, briefly losing words to a low humming growl at the sensation. "So don't...try _too_ hard to hold back, yeah...?"  
  
Nero _would_ protest, but then Dante _moves_ , lifting up and sliding back down onto him, and he loses what little self-control he has left as he arches with a fragile cry, his whole body shuddering.  
  
The noise Dante lets out isn't really describable, some mixture of sympathy, amusement and a little genuine surprise, and he breathes out a quiet chuckle when Nero can finally focus on him again with a hazy, embarrassed expression. "Hey - c'mon. Don't look at me like that. I'll let you in on a little secret," he says, brings a hand up to run his thumb along Nero's cheek, as if trying to soothe his humiliation. "Devil blood's not just good for helping you kick ass in a fight and heal up from something that'd normally kill ya, y'know? There's a _lot_ of things we can do with that demonic power - and some of 'em even end up being useful for things like this." He glances pointedly down, raises an eyebrow, going on before Nero can do more than get halfway through a slow blink. "Trust me on this one, alright? Focus. Sure, you lost it a little - happens to the best of us. _But_ , why don't you see what happens if you tell yourself that you _didn't_ lose it?"  
  
Blinking slowly a few more times, Nero manages to redden brilliantly, coherency snapping back in a flash when the words sink in. "...You're telling me to _pretend_ myself hard again?"  
  
"Basically, yeah." Dante shrugs, not a whit of anything teasing in his voice or face. "Try it."  
  
"...This is fucking humiliating," Nero groans, but leans his head back against the chair, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.  
  
Slowly, he focuses...and nearly jolts right out of the chair in surprise when it actually _works_ , a rush of warmth and power bringing him almost instantly from half-mast to achingly hard once more.  
  
"See? Works like a charm." Dante smiles - an outright smile, the soft and easy one that Nero always privately, and most embarrassingly, thinks he could fall in love with when he sees it - and strokes Nero's cheek once more before lowering his hand, shifting to start moving again. "Not really something I'd abuse if I were you - at least not until you get some more practice," he interrupts himself with a low sound, pulling up slowly, letting his eyes close partway with pleasure as Nero rocks clumsily up to meet his downwards movement. "But it's still something...for you to keep in mind."  
  
Nero snorts shakily, shifts his hands to Dante's waist, swallowing back a noise that's just a _little_ too pleading for his liking right now. "Will you just...shut the fuck up...and _ride_ me like a goddamn carousel horse already?"  
  
Dante snorts laughter, but he's not disobeying, the muscles in his thighs bunching tight as he braces himself to do precisely that.  
  
Words are genuinely forgotten by the both of them this time, the sounds that escape them a hedonistic mishmash of desperate moans and possessive growls, and Nero closes his eyes and lets himself get lost in it all, his hands clenched tight on Dante's waist and his head thrown back with the sheer _bliss_ he's feeling. It's so intense, so much _stronger_ than he's used to, and he almost has to wonder if that's some kind of side effect from the little trick Dante's taught him - but that's not important right now; what _is_ important is shifting just a little so he's hitting that spot that makes Dante let out guttural whines and clench around him, makes the man tremble with every single movement like he's going to shake himself apart, and knowing it's _him_ causing that reaction is so much that Nero almost can't stand it. To think that he's this lucky - that he's making Dante submit to him, bringing the powerful Hunter both figuratively and literally to his knees, it's bringing him _so close_ \--  
  
\--he doesn't even realize it until halfway through the motion, but he's bringing a hand up off Dante's waist, curling it round the back of his head, pulling him closer with a gasp of voice that's only just audible. "You - bastard - _bite me_ \--"  
  
Dante's shoulders tremble with distant amusement, and he obeys immediately, latching onto the pale curve of Nero's throat.  
  
The hot sting flips some mental switch Nero didn't even quite know existed, and he lets himself break, his wild cry masking the slightly lower one as Dante shatters only a moment behind him.  
  
They spend a while just catching their breath, slumped in a sweaty and spent heap on the chair, and predictably it's Dante who claws back most of his coherency first, letting out a hum of satisfaction and lifting his head. "That," he says, exhales a shuddery contented sigh and sits up enough to stretch a little, "was possibly the _best_ fuck I've ever had in my life. You should be proud of yourself," and he's smirking, the expression turning playfully wicked when Nero manages to blush noticeably at the compliment. "I mean it. You're a natural."  
  
"Learned from the best," Nero retorts breathily before he can think about what he's saying, and the blush immediately darkens by about four shades, indignation creeping into his tone to cover up the embarrassment. "Get _off_ me. You're heavy, we're a mess and I'm getting a damn cramp in my side."  
  
"Bitch, bitch, bitch." Dante rolls his eyes, amused, agreeably hefting himself off of Nero, and the both of them make a tiny sound when he lifts free but they're also both pretending not to notice that. "...So, hey. While you're too tired to hit me, I got something to say," he takes a step back as he says that just in case Nero _does_ decide to take a swing at him, his expression softening to a smile that's strangely almost _shy_. "Happy birthday, Nero."  
  
Nero blinks at him a few times, thinks to bristle several seconds too late, and he _knows_ he must look pitifully _adorable_ as he folds his arms tightly and turns his head away. "Fuck you," he says, doesn't even manage to grit his teeth when he says it, and slumps a little, letting his voice go quiet. "...But I guess this _is_ the best birthday I've ever had. So I - thanks, I guess."  
  
Dante just keeps smiling, offers him a hand up, pulling him close and murmuring at his ear. "So...how about we shower and then go for round two? Or are you too tired for that?"  
  
Magnanimously, he even lets Nero hit him.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nero's visiting Dante's shop for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp.
> 
> This took a fair bit of time it should _not_ have, but in my defense, I've been rather ill and writing doesn't work too well like that.
> 
> Also, yes, it's supposed to cut off where it does - 1: this chapter mostly focuses on Nero and what a debauched mess he can be, and 2: if I'd kept going y'all would probably be waiting another damned week, so. Yeah. :P
> 
> (Enjoy the Devil Bringer pr0n, at long last.)

_**Prompt #8 - Mirrors** _

* * *

"Wait, what?" Nero says into the phone, frustrated and helpless, hand clenched tight on the receiver as he processes what he's being told. "Come on, you _promised_."  
  
"I know - I _know_ I did." Dante sounds _just_ as frustrated, not even making a proper attempt to conceal it, which Nero finds both worrisome and oddly comforting. "And you know I wouldn't go back on a promise without a damn good reason. But this _is_ a damn good reason; people are _dying_ , Nero. You know just as well as I do that this is something I can't ignore." He sighs, and it's altogether too easy to imagine him rubbing the bridge of his nose, like he's trying to stave off a headache. "Look, I'll make it up to you, kid. You know that, right?"  
  
Nero's lips press briefly together in a tight line, and he shakes his head, pushes down a surge of angry disappointment, taking a deep breath. As much as he _wants_ to keep protesting, to keep arguing-- "...Yeah, I know. I'm sorry," he finally responds, a little reluctantly, lets the rest of that breath out on a sigh of his own as his shoulders slouch. "You're right. Saving people's lives _is_ more important, and I'd probably do the same thing in your place. I just..." he pauses, huffs out an embarrassed noise that was probably meant to be a sardonic laugh, craning his neck to hold the receiver between shoulder and ear so he can run his human hand through his hair. "I was really looking forward to seeing you sooner rather than later. I _miss_ you, damn it." --and he's suddenly glad they aren't face to face, because he can feel himself blushing at what he's just inadvertently let slip.  
  
"Yeah, I miss you, too." Dante chuckles, quiet and affectionate, the sound full of familiar warmth. "I understand how you feel, alright? But look, this shouldn't take more than a few hours at most. I get in there, I take the big guy down, I come back. Business as usual." There's a metallic chiming sound in the background now, underscoring the words, and Nero realizes he must be preparing for the job even as they're speaking, which brings up a wave of guilt that's surprisingly hard to push away. "Trish will get you here no problem, don't worry about that. So I'll see you when I get back, yeah? Just wait for me."  
  
Nero sighs again, closes his eyes for a moment, opens them again. "...Be careful."  
  
"C'mon, who do you think you're talking to?" Dante's smirk is _audible_ , infuriatingly so.  
  
"That's exactly why I'm telling you to be careful," Nero shoots back, takes the receiver in hand again so he can stretch a twinge out of his neck. "You get yourself killed, and I'm gonna find some way to bring you back just to kill you _myself_."  
  
"I'd expect no less. Now--" the click of a round being chambered in first Ebony, then Ivory, makes Nero's trigger finger itch just a little, and Dante probably knows it from the amusement that's creeping into his voice. "I better get going. _You_ should, too. Don't wanna miss the ferry, huh?"  
  
"Oh, come on. I'm not gonna miss the--" Nero breaks off, glancing at the clock on the wall with a spike of anxious irritation. Just how long _has_ he been standing here bantering with Dante if it's already so close to departure time? " _Fuck_ ," he finishes, jerks the phone from his ear, dropping it into the cradle in a panicked motion and whirling to snatch up the bag he's packed.  
  
He doesn't even manage to be annoyed that Dante's laughing so loudly, it's still audible until the receiver settles into place and severs the connection with a clunk.  
  
Several hours later, he's dropping his bag on the floor of the spare room at Devil May Cry, feeling a twitch of distant amusement at the puff of dust raised by that action - clearly Dante doesn't get many people in to _stay_ for a while, and honestly, Nero is pretty sure the fact there's a spare room at _all_ is something that gets forgotten about 99 percent of the time. (Besides, it could be so much worse; at least the room's clean aside from the dust everywhere, and he doesn't expect to be spending all _that_ much time in his room anyway once Dante's back.) It doesn't keep his attention for all that long anyway, the urge to explore a little taking him, and he spends only a few moments thinking it over before giving in.  
  
(May as well learn his way around, right? This won't be the only time he's ever here, if he has anything to say about it.)  
  
He starts with the ground floor, familiarizes himself with the main office and the half-assed excuse for a kitchen, pokes around in a few drawers that are partly open anyway and gets some low innocuous music playing on the jukebox; that done, it's back upstairs, where he finds the bathroom, right next to a room that's probably meant to be some sort of storage but actually looks like a garage sale and an antique store had too much to drink and got sick all over the place, and he's still shaking his head over that one when he opens the next door and promptly forgets he was thinking about anything else.  
  
He's not honestly sure _how_ he expected Dante's bedroom to look, but what he sees is both completely unsurprising and yet oddly curious at the same time.  
  
He steps inside, shuts the door quietly behind him and takes a look around; it's not really too different from his own room back home, just more noticeably shabby and with a few more carelessly discarded pairs of pants and wrinkled shirts tossed over various bits of furniture, and the odd almost-familiarity of it is easing something slightly anxious he didn't even _know_ was gnawing at the back of his mind as he crosses the room, runs a cautious hand across mussed red sheets (silk, from the feel of it - _that_ one genuinely surprises him) before sitting slowly down on the edge of the bed (the frame creaks under his weight, and he finds himself making a note of that with the faintest of blushes.) He's tired suddenly, he realizes, _exhausted_ even, and while he knows he shouldn't fall asleep in Dante's bed he just...he _wants_ to, he doesn't care, he...  
  
He's kicking his shoes off before he knows it, half-certain he's going to be asleep the minute his head hits the pillow, but then he curls up and breathes Dante's familiar scent and all of a sudden, the exhaustion is making way for a smoldering heat growing within him.  
  
Somehow, that's far less embarrassing than his original plan of sleeping here.  
  
He takes a slow breath, hesitates only a moment before reaching down to fumble with buckles and zips, a little thrill going up his spine once he's got himself exposed and in hand - he can't help but wonder if Dante's ever done this exact same thing, and the thought of it is far more arousing than it has any _right_ to be, the slow burn of need bringing with it a host of mental pictures his imagination is all too happy to try and conjure up for his entertainment. (Never mind that he's all too happy to lose himself in them, because that's beside the point, and _not_ the point currently in his hand.) He can see it so clearly, Dante stretched out, shirtless, tousled, pants undone and - god, that's something he wants more than anything, and he can't stop the choked groan that escapes him as his hips arch a little, as he opens his eyes because suddenly the image is _overwhelming_ \--  
  
\--to the sight of his own flushed face, his desperate expression, his lips just _slightly_ parted and his eyes half-lidded and hazy, and why the hell did he _not_ notice the mirror hanging on the back of the bedroom door _before_ now?  
  
(Now he's about a hundred percent sure Dante _has_ done exactly this same thing.)  
  
Normally he'd turn away, fight back the embarrassment and just finish up what he was doing as quickly as possible, but here in the moment the thought doesn't even occur to him. Instead, he takes a steadying breath and just _looks_ at his reflection intently, as if he's trying to memorize it - drinking in the way he looks as he touches himself, how his throat works just a little as he swallows back the sounds he's making so they can't get too loud, how his eyelashes flutter and his head tips back a little whenever something feels _particularly_ good, and the sudden hazy realization that _this_ is what Dante must see when they fuck is like a jolt of pleasurable lightning right down his spine. He hadn't even known he could look so delicious, so irresistible, and yet...  
  
He can look even _more_ so, can't he?  
  
He blushes brilliantly at the thought, but he doesn't even give a single thought to refusing to indulge it, instead releasing his cock in favor of stripping quickly out of his clothes.  
  
_This is what he sees,_ he thinks over and over again, the words running through his mind like some kind of endless mantra as he slowly explores his own body, touching himself in the ways he always does when they're together, and he's certain he should be downright humiliated by _watching_ himself but instead he's loving every instant, seeing himself in a way he's never done before. It's no wonder Dante seems to adore him like this, seems to crave seeing him in such a vulnerable state - he can't get enough, he wants _more_ , and before he knows it he's getting up onto his hands and knees so he's facing the mirror more directly, not even trying to hold back the wild and desperate sound that escapes him as he takes in the sight before him. So _helpless_ , so needy, his cock thick and heavy between his legs and his pupils blown almost impossibly wide, it's an irresistible sight and--  
  
_He would want to fuck me_ , he thinks, distantly. _He'd want me to open myself for him, and then--_  
  
He's raising fingers to his mouth before he can even think about it, and he doesn't even falter when his tongue flicks out to wet them and it's demonic claws instead of human flesh, because even that's unbearably _hot_ right now and he's not about to resist the urge.  
  
He does squirm a little once he's eased the first finger inside him, because it's rough and _hot_ and just a bit strange, and it takes a few moments of just breathing and experimentally wriggling that finger to convince himself he's not about to rip himself open with the points of his claws, but once that mental wall breaks down all he can do is _want_ \- working himself slowly open, gasping and whining and making all manner of tiny little _helpless_ sounds that he can't remember making since he and Dante first started sleeping together on a regular basis, the faint burn of thick power-bright fingers buried deep in his ass somehow more arousing than almost anything he's _ever_ experienced up until this moment. Why hasn't he thought of this before now, why hasn't he _tried_ this before now - it's so damn lewd and embarrassing and even that's turning him on even more, driving him towards that inevitable peak, his whole body shaking and his eyes absolutely glued to the wanton picture that is his reflection right now.  He can't hold back, he doesn't _want_ to hold back, he's going to - if he just - just a little bit _more_...  
  
Distantly, incoherently, he almost thinks he _hears_ something, but he's too lost to comprehend it as he curls his fingers, lets the heat and pressure against his prostate drive him over the edge into a quaking, gasping release--  
  
\--which is exactly when the knob turns, and the door opens, Dante's expression rapidly going from exhausted irritation to startled burning _want_ as their eyes meet.  
  
_Oh_ , Nero thinks, only doesn't say it out loud because he isn't quite capable of speaking properly just yet, and just gives Dante a wide-eyed, mindblown, slowly-blinking stare.  
  
"...Well, hello to _you_ too." Of course Dante finds his voice first, and with it comes a downright sinful smirk, one that makes Nero tremble even as utterly mindless as he is right now. "Can't say I was expecting this, but damned if it's not a hell of a bonus to come home to. Missed me that much, huh?" --and of course he's not waiting for an answer even if he'd _get_ one, just steps in and shuts the door behind him again, immediately beginning to shed his clothes as he closes the distance from there to the bed in a few quick steps. "Sure looks like you've been having a lot of fun without me. Mind if I join in?"  
  
Nero swallows, manages to blush (he may never figure out how), and starts to pull those fingers free, but then considers - instead clumsily shifts himself around a little so Dante can _see_ , lowers his upper half to the bed and slowly spreads himself open, biting back a terribly embarrassed whimper at the fact he can practically _feel_ Dante's eyes locked onto his trembling hole. "Please," he _moans_ , and even in his humiliation he can't help but feel decidedly smug when he hears Dante swallow a groan, hears a drawer being yanked roughly open and the slick wet noises of lube that soon follow. "Dante, I need you so much, fuck me..."  
  
"Yeah," Dante says, a low, rough growl, bites back another groan and reaches for him. "Yeah. But like this--"  
  
Nero makes a curious hazy noise, raises his head a little as he's shifted, and goes brilliant red as he sees he's facing the mirror again with Dante behind him, grinning like the devil he is.  
  
"Now you're gonna see what you look like when I fuck you," the Hunter promises, and that might just be the best thing Nero's ever heard in his life.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dante's been training Nero. It's going well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOLY SHIT an update!
> 
> (I've been alright, honest. Just got a LOT on my plate re: actual real life shit. Mea culpa. Mea maxima culpa.)
> 
> I may or may not have entirely too good a time writing dominant Nero. So uh. Enjoy, I hope! I sure did.

_**Prompt #9 - Hunter Becomes Prey** _

* * *

Leaning against a tree, panting and shivering, all Dante can think is that he has made a rather grave miscalculation.  
  
It was a _simple_ enough thing, in retrospect - one of the most important things for a Devil Hunter to know is how to track their enemies through even the thickest cover, and Nero had been more than happy to accept a little bit of training in that, but somewhere along the way - well, honestly, now he's not actually sure if Nero is actually doing this for _training_ purposes or if he has some other idea in mind, and the latter thought is far more appealing than it ought to be. Still, he needs to focus, he needs to _concentrate_ and get back to--  
  
"You know you can't hide from me forever, right?" --and Nero's voice is _everywhere_ at the same time he can't pinpoint its source anywhere, filled with a lazy amusement that touches something primal deep within him, and it's only through a very great effort of will that he swallows down the sound that's rising in his throat.  
  
Definitely not training anymore, at this point - if it ever was.  
  
Still, he doesn't have time to stand around thinking about it; outmatched though he may be right now, he certainly doesn't intend to make this any easier on Nero than he absolutely _has_ to, and so he's moving again before long, catching a low branch on the next tree and swinging himself up into the thick foliage with only a sad fraction of his usual smooth grace - sure, it's a far more noisy option than just keeping to the ground, but it also offers him more places to try and hide, so right now it's a perfectly acceptable trade-off. Honestly, he thinks as he scrambles to a higher branch, he's not even sure how exactly any of this happened - how they went so _quickly_ from Nero utterly failing to conceal his own presence in the least to turning the tables like he did - and once he's got the time to sit down and chew it over he'd really like to see if he can figure out _what_ got turned back on him, but for now--  
  
Leaves rustle above him, a branch creaking, and - stupidly - he freezes, looks up.  
  
Cold metal settles against his temple, the acrid tang of old, burnt-out gunpowder filling his nose, and it's only the fact that he's suddenly so overwhelmed he forgets to breathe that keeps him from making any sound, pupils dilating a little as Nero leans in, presses Blue Rose's muzzle more firmly to his head and breathes against his trembling lips - " _Jackpot_."  
  
He's so hard it _aches_ , so lost he can't even comprehend it, and he can't do a damn thing but lid his eyes partway closed in willing surrender.  
  
Nero grins, lazy and pleased, lowers the gun and spins it once before holstering it, sitting back just enough to give him a little room to breathe and pretending not to notice the way he looks almost disappointed. "I'd almost swear you were losing your touch--" and the next moment, they're crashing through the branches below to a heavy landing that would have knocked the breath out of both of them if they were fully human, Dante sprawling out most inelegantly and making a faint sound as Nero's weight bears down on his hips, the contact reminding him just how hot and bothered this has all gotten him. "Or that you _let_ me win, just to see what I'd do to you. Yeah, that's probably exactly what you did, isn't it?"  
  
Dante swallows thickly, tries to drag back a shred or two of composure and naturally fails quite miserably at doing so, the fact that Nero's hips just rocked forward against his a little more definitely _not_ helping in the least. "No," he manages, and thank whatever deity might possibly give a shit about half-devils and their pride, his voice at least stays steady enough that he can relax a little. "I don't know how the hell you did it, but that was _all_ you, kid. I'm - proud of you." And he genuinely is, he realizes; it's been _forever_ since someone could not only match him, but surpass him, and it's a feeling he didn't even know he _needed_ to feel but he's suddenly glad that he is, the tension going from his shoulders in a rush as a breath of a chuckle escapes him. "I don't even remember the last time someone managed to get one over on me like that. You are really something else, Nero--" he pauses, snorts a laugh. "Not sure I want to know what, though."  
  
"Yeah, screw you too." But Nero's still grinning, still letting most of his weight rest against Dante's hips, his eyes practically alight with a mischievousness that makes Dante both nervous and intrigued in equal measure. "So I won fair and square, huh? That means," he trails pointedly off, the grin turning downright _devastating_ , and traces a clawed fingertip teasingly over Dante's collarbone, seeming to delight in the way he unconsciously shudders and tries to press up into it. "I can do _whatever_ I want to you now, can't I? Fair's fair - gotta play by the rules. Not that I'm all that into rules," he admits, looks briefly sheepish, but it's soon gone to that sharp hunger again, voice dropping to a low growl. "Never mind - enough talking. You ready to take whatever I give you?"  
  
"More than ready," Dante breathes, can't help a lopsided smirk when he feels the faint shiver that goes down Nero's spine at those words. "C'mon, _give_ it to me."  
  
Nero closes his eyes briefly, takes a slow, steadying breath, shifting his weight so he can reach out and fumble in one of Dante's pockets for the ever-present lube. "Anyone ever tell you you're a goddamn _asshole_?"  
  
"You were about five minutes overdue to tell me again," Dante can't resist saying, but chokes off into a sharp groan when there's suddenly power-bright claws against his throat, wicked points resting against the skin in careful warning. God, that's strangely _hot_ and he suddenly feels like he can't even breathe for wanting - and Nero knows it, from the look on his face and the way he gently closes that hand into a light grasp, eyes abruptly very sharp and intent in a way that's actually almost unnerving. "H-hey, be - a _little_ careful, would you--"  
  
"Don't worry," Nero tells him, a low, sensual murmur, grips _just_ a little tighter for a second before letting go, and the unconscious disappointment in Dante's face is enough to make him laugh. "I don't plan on hurting you... _too_ much. But making you squirm..." he presses the point of one claw into the dip of Dante's collarbone, hard enough to pierce the skin, licking his lips at the deep and resonant groan Dante lets out in reaction. "Yeah, I'm _definitely_ gonna do that. And you _want_ me to, don't you? You want me to make you helpless, till you can't do anything but just _react_. If I didn't know any better," he leans down, catches the bead of blood he's drawn with a flicker of tongue, eyes lidding partway closed. "I'd say you _like_ being submissive..."  
  
Dante's breath catches on a sharp hiss, nostrils flaring briefly to better catch the scent of blood and arousal, words slipping out before he can even think it might be a good idea to try and keep quiet. "Only because it's you--" and then he's going brilliantly red, the gravity of what he's just inadvertently admitted pressing down on him, shifting his gaze nervously away just a little as Nero sits up to give him an almost bewildered stare. (Damn it all, why did he have to go and spoil the moment like that?) "I mean, ah - you know what, just forget I said that. Don't need it going to your head, after all..." he tries to laugh, even manages to make it sound halfway natural, but he can't meet Nero's eyes and that's probably ruining the whole effect. "Let's, uh - get back to the more _important_ thing, yeah? Don't have all day, after all."  
  
Nero stares for a moment longer, then huffs a sigh, leans in closer and presses a claw to Dante's cheek, forcing him to turn his head if he doesn't want to have a new hole in his face any time soon. "Dante," he says, too neutrally, too evenly to gauge what he might be thinking. "Hey - you _look_ at me when I'm talking to you, you bastard - tell me one thing, and don't you fucking _dare_ try to lie to my face, you got it?" He narrows his eyes, doesn't even wait for a response, just continues on. "Only because it's me, huh. You _do_ mean that, right?"  
  
Dante swallows a little, feeling distinctly trapped, takes a deep breath and lets it out again, trying to convince his vocal cords they really _can_ work despite feeling frozen with unease. "Yeah," he rasps finally, instinctively tries to turn his face away again and winces when that claw prods none too gently at his cheek. "I - yeah. I do mean it."  
  
"...Good." Nero smiles - it's faint, but it's there - and leans down to kiss him, softly, sweetly.  
  
It doesn't stay gentle for long, though; when Nero's involved, nothing ever does. The soft, affectionate brush of mouths is soon a full-on devouring kiss, teeth catching at lips and little panting noises muffled by the contact, and the consuming heat Dante felt before is flooding back even stronger now, incandescent sparks of _want_ prickling at every fiber of his being with an unyielding intensity. Sometimes he thinks he'll never be able to figure out just how the damn kid can get to him this much - but it really doesn't matter, what _does_ matter is getting back to the main event, and thankfully Nero seems to have the same thought, foregoing any further unnecessary talk in favor of pulling back to fumble with clothing. "Strip," he says, a breathy but firm order, mutters a curse when he snags the hem of his shirt with a claw but doesn't otherwise pay much attention. "No more fucking around."  
  
Dante doesn't even bother making a snarky comment, just sits up enough to snap open buckles and undo zippers, the comparatively cooler air against his hot skin as it's bared making him shiver though he hardly pays that any attention. (To be fair to him, paying attention to anything that _isn't_ Nero stripping out of the last of his clothes isn't really _possible_ right now, so he's not terribly concerned.) "So hey," he manages finally when he's shed most everything and is busily shoving his pants down enough to squirm out of them, appreciatively taking in the curve of Nero's spine as he stretches hard, shoulderblades arching back so sharply it seems he might actually fold himself in half. "You, uh, really planning on making me helpless?"  
  
Nero's lips tug up into the briefest of smirks, and his eyes are alight with smug amusement as he turns to look at Dante again. "What, you _want_ me to?"  
  
It's only sheer force of will that keeps Dante from blushing, keeps his expression even, and it's a very close thing even then. "Well, _you_ seemed so excited by the idea, I thought maybe I'd let you--"  
  
" _Let_ me," Nero interrupts, the smirk growing, and the slow, deliberate way he reaches for his discarded belt sends a wave of nervous want down Dante's spine. "You thought you'd _let_ me. Isn't that cute." --and the next instant, he's _on_ Dante, pinning him before he can think to react, forcing his arms up above his head and wrapping the belt tight round his wrists. "I don't think you've _quite_ got the idea yet, do you? Let me refresh your memory: I _won_. That means you do what I say...you take what I give you...and you get no _choice_ in the matter. So even if you _didn't_ obviously want it--" he moves before Dante can react past taking a sharp breath, flipping him roughly over onto his stomach and delivering a sharp, stinging smack to his ass. "Up on your knees. Keep your head down."  
  
Dante yelps at the smack, thinks he should protest, he should _struggle_ , but his head's spinning with confused desperation and he can't do anything but obey, panting out a bewildered noise into the grass.  
  
"Yeah, there you go - _that's_ nice." Nero licks his lips, runs clawed fingertips ever so gently over Dante's ass, intently watching his helpless shiver as he instinctively rocks into the touch. "Be nice if we had more time, there's so much I can think of to do to you--" but he knows they can't be out here _all_ damn day, as much fun as that might be, so he just reaches for the lube, starts to slick his human fingers and then pauses before deciding he has a better idea, calmly turning his attention to the demonic hand instead. "So, tell me something. You ever messed around with yourself during your Devil Trigger?"  
  
"Messed around," Dante starts to not-quite-ask, too dazed for complete coherency, but then it hits him and despite all his efforts to the contrary, he can feel himself going red. "Not - not for a _long_ time. Why--"  
  
Nero just smiles, doesn't answer him verbally, instead pushes one of those power-bright fingers deep into him and can't help a flare of amusement at the way he arches with a curse.  
  
_Damn, what the hell has gotten into him--_ But there's no real apprehension in the thought, no true desire to try and stop any of this, and Dante can only twist his hands a little ineffectively against the belt binding them, letting out a low and resonant groan as those rough, hot fingers begin skillfully opening him - quick and careless and _just_ this side of being enough to actually hurt, the feeling is indescribable, and he's panting helplessly against the ground before he knows it, rocking into every movement the fingers make inside of him. "You're," he manages, utterly breathless, breaking off into another groan and having to struggle for a moment to remember what he was about to say. "Enjoying this...a little _too_ much..."  
  
Nero snorts, curls those fingers sharply, eyes flashing with _want_ at the guttural noise that motion brings forth from Dante's throat. "Like you aren't?"  
  
Having no ready reply to that, Dante just swallows shakily, twists his hands a little more so he can dig his nails into the dirt as if to hold on, voice a gasping moan. "Come on...better get to the good stuff...if you want to have _time_ for it..."  
  
Lips briefly pressing together into a thin line of annoyance, Nero nonetheless has to admit Dante has a point, and so he reluctantly withdraws his fingers, reaches for the lube again. "...Consider yourself lucky I want this as fucking much as _you_ do."  
  
"I _am_ lucky," Dante breathes, and means it, as Nero gets into position behind him, clawed hand settling on his hip in a tight, possessive grasp.  
  
Then Nero's in him, _filling_ him, and he can't think enough to say anything else.  
  
It's not like Nero hasn't fucked him before - and this wouldn't even be the first time it's been in this _position_ (though being bound _is_ entirely new) - but for some reason, he feels so much more this time, so much it's nearly overwhelming him, and some part of his brain is distantly embarrassed at how easily and how much he's submitting but the rest of him just can't care, giving in to the relentless pleasure. It's so much, _too_ much, he's never felt anything like it in his life and he can't possibly take any more - and then that demonic hand is reaching down, sliding under, and the rough fingers that close around his cock are silently telling him one thing: _you can, and you will_ , they seem to say, and he can't argue with that.  
  
All he can do is let Nero take him, touch him, drive him past his limits until he finally gives in, finally _shatters_ with a wild cry that echoes to the treetops.  
  
Nero's not far behind him, of course, shuddering to a panting, snarling halt with vicious little twitches of hip, and with his hands bound he can't really even brace himself, so when Nero's weight settles unyielding against his back there's no way to prevent them both from sort of collapsing into the dirt, but even _that_ is surprisingly pleasant at this point and when he gets his breath back, he huffs out a dazed laugh and turns his head just enough so that Nero isn't panting _directly_ into his ear. "You," he manages, takes a deep breath and lets it out again on a very satisfied sigh, "are ruthless. I'm definitely proud of you..."  
  
Nero snorts softly, a noise full of pleasure and embarrassment, and reluctantly shifts his weight off of Dante so he can fall to the side again, letting out a small groan when that forces him to pull out. "Helps to have a teacher who isn't a dumbass," he points out, reaches over to tug the belt loose, admiring the marks left on Dante's wrists - there's no blood, they'll fade soon enough, and he can't help but run a satisfied thumb over one particularly vicious mark, appreciating the way Dante shivers. "...We're gonna do this again sometime, right?"  
  
" _Yes_ ," Dante says before he can stop himself, a low, needy groan, and he can't even manage to feel the least bit embarrassed. "Especially if it gets you to fuck me like that again."  
  
Nero opens his mouth, shuts it again, slowly _grins_ , and that expression is not the least bit reassuring.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phone calls aren't just for catching up with one another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...Yeah, okay. I was obviously _really_ looking forward to doing this prompt, as I'm sure you can tell. :D
> 
> (Poor Nico though...apparently I just enjoy torturing the girl on occasion.)
> 
> I'd almost hate to see what would happen if someone gave smartphones to Dante and Nero, since video capability...

_**Prompt #10 - Phone Sex** _

* * *

"I think I got it working," Nico's voice comes from under the RV, muffled by all the metal, plastic and fabric in the way, but still perfectly audible. "You should be good to give it a go."  
  
"You sure about that? It damn near zapped my face off the last time." Nero leans out the window to peer blandly down at the pair of tanned legs sticking out from under the chassis, and he can't help but grin when a hand pokes out as well to give him a quite rude gesture. "Yeah, yeah, same to you. Alright, I'll try it--" he's reaching for the phone even as he speaks, but then he pauses, twists his lips a little, consideringly. "Wait, who should I even be calling?"  
  
Nico sighs, pushes herself out from under the RV and sits up to give him an almost pitying look. "What, you got a whole _list_ of people you could call? I doubt that one, somehow. Just - call whoever you can talk to for a while," she sighs again, shakes her head and doesn't even give him a chance to snark back before she's disappearing back under. "If the connection doesn't drop by about fifteen minutes, we should be golden. Aim for that, alright?"  
  
Nero rolls his eyes, lifts the handset, and while he's still considering _who_ might actually want to keep up any kind of prolonged conversation with him, his hand's automatically moving to punch in an embarrassingly familiar number.  
  
Three rings, and then the line picks up with a half-yawned but cheerful, "Devil May Cry."  
  
"Hey - it's me," Nero says before nervousness can take over, valiantly pretending he doesn't feel awkward as all get out, shifting to sit back more comfortably in his seat and tilting his head to cradle the receiver between cheek and shoulder. "You, uh, busy? Am I interrupting anything?"  
  
"Nero? Nah, you're not interrupting anything - just catching some shut-eye while there's no one around to bug me awake again." Dante huffs a chuckle, and the rustle of paper in the background provides a probably accurate mental image to Nero - the Hunter slouched in his desk chair, head tilted back, opened magazine flopped over his face to shield his eyes from the light. (It's a position he's taken to himself - at least the magazine part - and that thought should probably be more embarrassing than it is, but hey.) "Don't sweat it. Kinda rare to get a call from you, though. Something up?"  
  
"No, I just--" Nero pauses, not entirely sure _how_ he ought to put this, and finally he just goes for the bluntly honest route, figuring that Dante's at least likely not to poke fun at him for having no subtlety. "Nico finally got the phone line in the RV connected, and she asked me to test it out. So I need you to put up with me for about fifteen minutes, to make sure the call isn't gonna drop." There, he'd managed to say it all in one go without pausing to rethink himself, and even with far less awkwardness than he'd expected it to come out - a clear win. "...Tell me if I'm boring you to sleep, though. Wouldn't want that, huh?"  
  
Dante snorts, and in the background, the magazine hits his desk with a muffled smack, suggesting he just sat up straight. "Fifteen minutes? Yeah, no problem. Now, if you were wanting to talk for an hour or two..." he pointedly trails off, and his smile's somehow _audible_ down the phone line as Nero lets out a snorted laugh. "In fact, I got an idea. You looking to hang up right at fifteen, or...?"  
  
Nero can't deny curiosity, kicking his feet up onto the dash, making himself comfortable - Dante's ideas may tend to be a bit...unorthodox, but they're also (usually) perfectly serviceable, and it's not like he has any ideas himself. "Not really, that's just what Nico told me to aim for at the least..."  
  
"Good." The audible smile is now an audible _smirk_ , and Dante's chair creaks, a low thumping noise suggesting he's now sitting in a mirror of Nero's own position, boots propped on the desk as per usual. "How likely is she to overhear anything?"  
  
"How - what?" For an instant, Nero genuinely doesn't get it, and when he does, he nearly drops the handset, feeling his face rapidly heating. " _Dante_. If you're suggesting we test this out with fucking _phone sex_ , absolutely not--"  
  
"Phone sex? Damn, all _I_ was thinking was just some mutual jerking off," Dante says thoughtfully, and he sounds so smug Nero almost wishes there was a way to punch someone down a phone line. "I like your idea better."  
  
Nero slaps his hand over his face, drags it slowly down, mentally cursing his big mouth.  
  
"Seriously, though." There's a certain tone in Dante's voice now, dark and rich and smug, and it nearly makes Nero curse out loud this time, because he _knows_ he can't resist that tone and that's exactly why Dante's using it. "We need to kill some time, there's not much to actually _talk_ about - doubt you want a blow-by-blow about the last batch of demons I eviscerated - and there'll be enough pauses to test how the line handles that, too. You have to admit it's a good idea." --and he's not _wrong_ , which is both infuriating and admirable in equal measure. "C'mon. Weren't you just saying the other day you miss me, anyway?"  
  
"That," Nero grits out, pretending he isn't blushing, "was the other day."  
  
"So you don't miss me now?" Dante counters, entirely too smugly.  
  
Nero hisses between his teeth, lets his head thunk back against the headrest. "...You're a manipulative fucking bastard, you know that?"  
  
"Sure am." Dante chuckles, full of fond affection, underscored by the unmistakable sound of a zipper being slowly unzipped in the background. "Look, kid. I know you. I'm not the only one who could use this right now, huh?"  
  
"Just how pent up do you think I - no. Actually, _don't_ answer that." Letting out an indignant sigh, Nero shifts uncomfortably, peers out the window again, and when all he observes is Nico's feet sticking out from underneath the RV coupled with muttered cursing, he nervously dares to reach down and get his own pants open. "...I can't believe I'm doing this. How the hell do you talk me into these things?"  
  
"Guess I'm just that good," Dante says, lets out a slow, pleased sigh, and Nero can just envision him sitting back and taking himself in hand, a small shiver going up his spine at the mental image. (He definitely doesn't _need_ any help getting all hot and bothered, but if he did, that'd definitely do the trick.) "Mm...damn. Dunno about you, but I'm hard as nails _already_ just thinking about doing this. Wish I could show you--" that comes with a breath of a laugh, trailing off into a low groan, a sound which Nero privately thinks is _most_ unfair because of the wonderful things it's doing to his libido. "How 'bout you? Getting all worked up already?"  
  
Nero swallows, leans his head back again and lids his eyes mostly shut, taking a shuddery breath as he grips himself. "...Yeah. Your fucking fault," he retorts, but he can't actually make himself sound the least bit annoyed, if only because he's already so turned on by all this that he knows he'd feel like an utter hypocrite. "...Wish you could see it, huh? See me sitting here, getting myself off over you--" and he's not entirely sure how he's getting over the relentless embarrassment enough to even _say_ this, but when Dante lets out another one of those damned unfair groans in response, that's more than enough reason to try and keep going. "I bet you - can't help but imagine me like this, can you? _Fuck_ , Dante, I'm so _hard_ right now, you have no idea - god, if only this was _your_ hand, I'd be in fucking paradise," he trails into a shaky moan, biting his lip to keep it down just a little, his eyes closing all the way.  
  
Dante doesn't reply for a moment; when he does, it's rough and breathy, very nearly a growl, a tone that makes Nero both intensely proud and even _more_ horny both at the same time. "Damn right I'm imagining you...might be the hottest thing I've ever seen," he says, takes a slow breath, lets it out on a breathy distracted chuckle. "Imagined. Whatever. Not the point--" he hisses between his teeth, in the particular way he only does when one of his _particularly_ sensitive spots is being teased at, and Nero's mind helpfully provides him with the mental picture of which one it's most likely to be, given Dante's probable position at the moment. "Got an idea...to make this even more fun. How much do you feel like following orders?"  
  
Curiosity washes through Nero, and his hips lift a little, unconsciously, at even the mere thought. "W-why do you ask? No, wait," he hurries out before Dante can answer, trying to pretend he isn't mentally cursing that stammer. "Answer me _another_ question first--"  
  
"Yeah, it's _that_ one," Dante agrees, breathing a little quicker now, anticipating Nero's question before he even asks it. "The one you like licking so much."  
  
"...How the fuck did you know what I," Nero starts, then stops abruptly, a guttural groan rising in his chest at the mental image - Dante's fingers slowly caressing that one really nice spot just about halfway down his cock, rubbing across it just firm enough not to outright _tease_ but not enough to do much else, and _god_ , he wants to come just from that thought alone. "Fuck," he adds, almost an afterthought, slouches in his seat a little more and circles the tip of his erection with a finger, smearing the precome gathered there, sucking in a shuddering breath at the sensation. "You fucking bastard, I'm almost _dripping_ thanks to you."  
  
"That's hot," Dante says through another of those gritted-teeth hisses, definitely breathing harder now, a soft but intense counterpoint to his words. "Gotta be honest with you - so am I."  
  
Nero can't quite swallow a moan at _that_ thought, and his hips jerk, the claws of his Devil Bringer digging into the seat beside him as if to keep him grounded. "Fuck you. What were - you saying about orders, anyway--"  
  
"Oh - that. Just figured..." Dante pauses for a moment, makes a low sound almost below the edge of hearing, one that makes Nero shiver all over when he catches it. "I could tell you what to do...visualize you doing it. You're making it awful hard for me to think, though," he admits, not even sounding the least bit sheepish or embarrassed, though that _could_ just be a side effect of how obviously aroused he is at the moment. "So maybe not the best--"  
  
"Do it," Nero interrupts quickly, before he can lose the nerve, because that might actually be one of the hottest things Dante's _ever_ asked of him in all the time they've been sleeping together, and he knows he'll regret it if he doesn't even give it a go.  
  
"...Yeah? Alright then." Dante inhales slowly, apparently gathering his thoughts, his voice ridiculously and irritatingly even when he speaks again. "Sit up straight," he starts, "because I know you're slouching - get your pants off, and then I want you to touch yourself nice and slow. Tease yourself, like I'd do to you. Bonus points if you--" he briefly pauses to make another one of those low intriguing noises, the faint creak of wood in the background suggesting he's propped the receiver against his shoulder so he can grip the edge of the desk with one hand. "--end up fucking your hand like you always do to _mine_."  
  
Nero's dimly sure he probably ought to be a lot more embarrassed than he is, but he's also not complaining, sitting upright and letting go of his cock long enough to lift his hips and shove his pants down. "I wish it _was_ your hand," he breathes, high and more than a little desperate, picking up into an outright whine of pleasure as he grasps himself again. "Shit, I'm not gonna _last_ , Dante. I-I don't know how long I can take it slow..."  
  
"Just go as long as you can," Dante reassures him, as much as anything can sound reassuring through a shuddering not-quite-moan. "I want to hear you lose it."  
  
" _Fuck_ \--" Nero grits his teeth hard, presses his head firmly back against the headrest, and he's _trying_ really, but it's only a few slow strokes before he just can't _take_ it any more and then he's picking up the pace, unable to stop himself from letting out panting moans as he thrusts erratically into the tunnel created by his trembling fingers. "I - fuck, _fuck_ , I really can't - Dante, _god_ ," he gasps out, claws digging into the seat again, hard enough that the tips of them are puncturing through into the padding below and he can't even manage to feel guilty about that - how could he, when he's so _close_ and now Dante's panting into his ear on the other end of the line and that's _all_ that matters at the moment? "I...I'm gonna..."  
  
Dante _growls_ down the line, shaky and possessive, his words full of a smoldering intensity that really shouldn't be _possible_ with as turned on as he has to be but is nonetheless very welcome. "Don't you - _dare_ hold back - _come for me_ , Nero--"  
  
Nero lets out a faint whimper, freezes briefly at the flash of irresistible _bliss_ that goes through him, and then he's doing the only thing he can - arching and obeying, spilling himself helplessly over his hand and stomach with a strangled cry of Dante's name.  
  
(Somewhere in there, he can hear a hissed "Ah, _shit_ \--" and a louder " _Nero_ \--" and then Dante's orgasmic groan is resonating in his ear, and even as lost as he is, he's still _so_ fucking proud of himself.)  
  
They spend a few moments mostly in silence, just catching their breath and coming down from the mindblowing high, and of _course_ it's Dante who finds the coherency to speak again first, letting out a breathless chuckle. "Now _that_ ," he says, takes a slow, deep breath and lets it out again, sounding best pleased with himself. "That was better than I expected. Can't resist you even over the phone - you should be proud of yourself, kid."  
  
"Nn," is all Nero can manage to say, still clawing back the shreds of his coherency, feeling his cheeks starting to heat rapidly as he remembers where he _is_ and realizes just how quiet he absolutely was _not_. "You're still a fucking bastard..."  
  
"Yeah, yeah. Don't expect that to change." Dante's grinning audibly down the line again, his voice so full of affection that Nero's embarrassed on his behalf. "I meant that, though. We should do this again sometime."  
  
"...Yeah. Alright. But _not_ in the damn car," Nero adds quickly, turns his head enough to peer out the window again, surprised to still hear Nico muttering to herself from underneath the chassis, coupled with what sounds like her banging on a strut with a very large wrench. Is it actually possible she _didn't_ overhear any of that, he wonders? "...At least not when Nico's around."  
  
Dante snorts laughter, the sound of his boots landing on the desk again as he sinks into his usual relaxed pose just audible. "Why, afraid she might like it too much?"  
  
Nero sighs heavily, only _not_ facepalming because he doesn't want a faceful of claws and his human hand is still an utter mess. "I'd rather not _know_ if she might or not, thank you very much."  
  
"Fair enough. Guess I don't really want to share you with anyone when you're like that, either," Dante admits, and if ever there were a time when he probably _should_ sound sheepish, that would be it. Except he doesn't. "Well, guess our little playtime passed the test, huh? As much as I hate to pseudo-fuck and run, I probably ought to let you go. It's getting close to dinner time there anyway, if I'm remembering right."  
  
"Yeah--" Nero can feel himself reddening all the way up his ears, realizing how _lucky_ he is that they finished when they did - never mind Nico, he wouldn't want _Kyrie_ catching him at this either. "I, uh - thanks, though. I guess I needed that."  
  
"You and me both. You're welcome." Dante hums fond amusement. "Talk to you later, then."  
  
Nero nods, even though he knows Dante won't see it - habit, he supposes. "Yeah. See ya," he says, and before he knows he's even going to go _on_ , "Love you--" and instantly he _panics_ , because why the fuck did he even _say_ that, and slams the handset back onto the base with a look of wide-eyed disbelief. "What the _fuck_ ," he asks himself, even though he most definitely doesn't know the answer.  
  
"Yeah, about that," Nico's dry voice comes from below, the wrench-banging noises having ceased. "That is _not_ what I meant by testin' the line, you jackass."  
  
Nero jumps, automatically reaches for the closest thing at hand, and decides he'll feel bad about the magazine he chucks at her head _later_ \- once he can stop being embarrassed enough to wish the floor would swallow him up and never spit him back out again.

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes Nero really likes to show his appreciation of certain... _bits_ of Dante.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whooooooa boy I'm sorry this took FUCKING AGES. I hit kind of a slump there, and then there was preparation for my birthday (yeah, hi, I'm older today) and oh my god the words just. They wouldn't word. BUT FINALLY THEY DID.
> 
> Ahem.
> 
> Writing this chapter broke down yet another of my "...writing this is kind of embarrassing actually" walls, and I'm very proud of this fact. One of these days I will have no writing shame left and it will be glorious. And yes, the ending does mean Devil Trigger sex is probably going to happen in an upcoming chapter~
> 
> Please do enjoy. :3c

_**Prompt #11 - Cock Worship** _

* * *

"So I've been wondering," Dante says as he works shampoo through Nero's hair, cleaning away the last traces of demon blood. "What's with the hair?"  
  
Nero doesn't respond immediately, the hot water on his shoulders and Dante's skilled fingers rubbing at his scalp both conspiring to lull him into a half-asleep slouch, but when those fingers graze over a small scrape at his hairline, he's startled out of his reverie with a slight grunt at the brief sting of pain. "The...hair? Oh," he snorts, leans his head back into the shower spray and ruffles his fingers through his hair to rinse it when Dante lets go of him. "It was getting to be a pain in the ass, that's all. Plus--" swiping suds out of his face, he turns to face Dante, lifts one shoulder in a half-shrug. "Lot less for anyone to _yank_ on, now."  
  
Dante raises an eyebrow, gives him a smile that he's not sure if it's sympathetic or smug but it still kind of makes him want to punch it. "Ah. The kids," he says, and it's not a question.  
  
"...Yeah." Nero rolls his eyes a little, but the corner of his mouth tugs briefly upward, wry amusement writ large in his expression. "To be fair, it's what I _get_ for not considering that."  
  
A snort escapes Dante and he claps Nero on the shoulder, shaking his head with what sounds suspiciously like a muffled chuckle, leaning forward under the water himself once Nero sidles out of his way a little. "Don't get me wrong," he says, fumbles blindly for the shampoo and then snorts again when Nero tugs him forward enough to work patient fingers into his hair, returning the earlier favor. "It looks good on you. Just kind of a surprise seeing you like that."  
  
"Mmhm." Nero's clearly not paying much attention, too focused on what he's doing, gently working out a few snarled tangles (he swears they could use demon blood as a substitute for glue, it gets so damn _sticky_ when it dries) and finally nodding satisfaction, unable to resist combing both hands slowly and deliberately through Dante's hair before he pulls away. "You could do with a haircut yourself," he says, folds his arms, watches Dante shove his head under the water again and make a little sputtering noise as soap runs down his face. "Especially if you're gonna go sticking your damn head in blood fountains."  
  
"That," Dante puts up a finger, finishes rinsing his hair clean and straightens up, swiping the water from his face. "Was _not_ deliberate."  
  
"Sure it wasn't." Nero snorts, eyes him up and down, taking in the sight of him; it wouldn't be wrong to say that he finds Dante attractive no matter what the situation, but like this, relaxed and flushed from the heat of the shower, rivulets of water streaming down his skin and tracing the contours of his muscles like they adore him - the man is absolutely irresistible, in a way that Nero's not quite sure how to reconcile in his own mind and can only act on. "So hey," he finds himself saying, taking a step forward, reaching out to trace the rasp of stubble along Dante's jawline with a fingertip. "How tired are you after all that?"  
  
A smirk promptly makes its way onto Dante's face, and he tilts his head a little, leaning into Nero's touch. "Looking to have some fun, are you?" he teases, catches Nero's hand when it makes to flick him sharply on the cheek, smirk softening into an affectionate smile. "To answer your question, though...not too tired for you. What did you have in mind?"  
  
"Maybe I won't tell you, if you're gonna be an ass." Nero feigns a haughty sniff, but he can't pretend indignance for _too_ long, because he's looking Dante slowly over again and that's just making him _want_ even more. "I was just thinking - don't you even say it," he narrows his eyes a little when Dante opens his mouth to speak, cutting him off before he can make the obvious comment. "It's been a while since I had your dick in my mouth, huh? So maybe I'll get down on my knees, _swallow_ you, and utterly blow your mind." And if he's honest with himself, the thought's turning him on just as much as it probably is Dante, a slow burn starting to make its way through him that makes him feel just a bit dizzy with lust. "But if you don't _want_ that--"  
  
"And you call _me_ a fucking bastard." There's something almost awed in Dante's voice, his eyes glinting a little, and he puts his hands on Nero's shoulders and pushes him down, giving a faint openmouthed grin when Nero obediently goes to his knees without the slightest complaint. "C'mon. You know I'm never gonna say no to that. You do it so well."  
  
"Everyone's gotta be good at something," Nero mutters laconically, reaches up to take hold of Dante's cock (he's half hard already; that's both impressive and amusing at the same time) and strokes him slowly a few times, eyes flickering back and forth between his face and the task quite literally at hand. "...Dunno what the hell it is about you, y'know. It's not like you're the first guy I've--" he pauses, bites back the urge to say _loved_ , goes with a weak and probably not at all concealing "--wanted, but you're definitely the only one who's ever made me want to kneel down and choke on your damn dick on a regular basis. Don't you dare laugh--" not that he thinks Dante _would_ , but there's still some part of him that finds this all extremely embarrassing and is convinced Dante won't take him seriously. "I - never mind. Forget I said anything."  
  
Dante eyes him, looks to be about to say something in response, but then seems to decide against it for the time being, just reaching out to curl a hand gently into his hair and tug him a little bit closer. "Nothing wrong with wanting someone," he says finally, exhales a shuddery breath as Nero leans in, brushes almost tentative lips against the head of his cock in a fluttery little kiss. "Nothing wrong with _loving_ someone, either. I know you know that." --and he's carefully, reassuringly, _not_ looking at Nero's face when he says that, giving him time to hide the embarrassment that's bound to come from processing that statement. "Why bother thinking about it too hard, anyway? You got something better to do right now."  
  
Nero _wants_ to be angry, or at least a little annoyed, but dammit, that's honestly one of the sweetest things Dante's ever said to him and it's making him feel a little warm all over. "Yeah, you're right," he agrees finally, takes a slow breath, letting _just_ the very tip of Dante's cock start to slide between his lips before pulling back in a teasing little motion. "Since when do you do logic, anyway?"  
  
"Since it throws you for a loop," Dante shrugs, tightens his fingers into Nero's hair when a flicker of tongue brushes over him, making him shiver just a little. "I'm sure you'll get your revenge."  
  
"Damn right I will." Nero looks up at him through half-lidded eyes, mouths gently at the head of his cock once more before slowly taking it in, making a small noise at the familiar feeling of his mouth being relentlessly filled - it had taken him more time than he ever wants to admit to get _used_ to Dante's sheer girth, and he'd definitely ended up with a sore jaw more than once from pushing himself, but once he'd got the hang of it he'd discovered that he absolutely fucking _loves_ having his mouth almost uncomfortably full, some submissive little switch in a distant corner of his mind being completely and utterly flipped by the feeling of it. (He supposes he can probably blame his demonic side for some of that, but he never does think about it too hard.) Besides, it's always clear as day that Dante enjoys this just as much as he does, so-- "Mm," he says around his mouthful, lets his eyes close completely and shivers when Dante's other hand joins the first in gripping at his hair.  
  
"You _could_ sound a little less pleased with yourself," Dante breathes, low and rough, but the words are full of amusement and Nero knows he's not actually complaining, just snorting a quiet laugh in response and pressing his tongue flat against the underside of Dante's cock, feeling the veins there pulse with arousal as he sucks hard enough to hollow his cheeks and pulls slowly back; he knows the suction and the feel of his tongue gliding along hot skin will make Dante come just a little undone from that alone, and he only doesn't grin at the guttural noise the ministrations elicit because his mouth is too full for that, flicking his tongue lightly just beneath the flare of the head in teasing amusement. Gods, he could _really_ just do this all day, it's so much _fun_ driving Dante completely wild - and he knows Dante wouldn't _mind_ , but even so...it turns him on just as much to do this as it does Dante to receive it, and he's already feeling his own mind growing a little cloudy, enough that he's forced to sit back and take a slow breath as he looks up, finally letting that grin surface--  
  
\--Dante's gazing down at him through nearly-closed eyes, dripping hair hanging into his face, cheeks flushed deeper than even the heat of the shower could induce, and it's so exquisitely _tempting_ a sight that he immediately loses that tenuous hold on the last shreds of his control.  
  
" _Fuck_ ," he whispers, swallows shakily, reaches up to press trembling hands against Dante's thighs and licks his lips. "Who am I even teasing here, you or _myself_..."  
  
"Why not both?" Dante half-smirks, his voice breathy and intense, his hands shifting so he's no longer just holding Nero's hair, but curling fingers round the back of his head and tugging, _urging_ him to continue. "But no more teasing, huh?"  
  
Nero swallows again, nods, pupils blown wide as he opens his mouth obediently, lets Dante pull his head forward.  
  
This time there's no hesitation; Dante is relentless, almost ruthless, burying himself in the wet heat of Nero's mouth, and Nero welcomes him gladly, relaxing his throat the best he can as the head of Dante's cock presses insistently against the back of it, demanding to slide _deeper_. (If he's perfectly honest with himself, he's never found this exactly a _simple_ thing to do, but the results are always so worth it.) He breathes sharply through his nose, a quick inhalation, wills himself _not_ to tense and pushes through the moment of brief alarm that always comes with deepthroating such an impressive cock, and slowly the nervousness melts away as it always does and he just feels - _smug_ , he supposes, accomplished even. Now if only he could see himself, he's sure he has to look absolutely _obscene_ like this, on his knees and so hard he's dripping and with Dante's cock buried to the hilt in his eager mouth - one of these days, he thinks, he's got to get a camera, and--  
  
Then Dante shifts, rocks his hips back a little and gives a gentle thrust, and any coherent thoughts in Nero's head promptly make a dash for freedom, his throat working briefly with a nearly silent moan.  
  
_Take me,_ he begs inwardly, since he can't say it aloud, drops his hands to fist tightly against his own thighs in an attempt to keep from touching himself. _Fuck my mouth, Dante, come on...  
  
_Dante inhales slowly, shakily, as if he can _hear_ Nero's silent plea, and his fingers curl against the back of Nero's head, nails gently grazing at his scalp. "You," he says, takes another slow breath and thrusts again, more firmly, "are fucking _amazing_ \--" and then he loses words when Nero lets out a garbled moan around him, throat working around the head of his cock in a slight squeeze, and there's no way he can even _try_ to resist the pleasure that sends lancing through him, exhaling a shuddery groan and letting the rocking of his hips settle into a steady rhythm. (It's amazing to him, every single time they do this, that Nero's even _capable_ of it - in his younger days he had plenty of people try and fail miserably, and he wasn't even fully _grown_ then, so to have someone just - almost effortlessly, not only deepthroat him, but then let him fuck their throat and take it gladly--)  
  
He groans, lets his eyes fall closed and his head drop back, jerks his hips forward roughly just to feel Nero's throat squeeze around him in an instinctive swallow, and then pulls back and away with a gasping breath of " _Shit_ \- Nero..."  
  
Nero coughs a little at the unexpected feeling of Dante's cock withdrawing from his throat so suddenly, blinks a few times and then licks his lips, reddened and just a little swollen in a way that makes Dante want to kiss him and never fucking _stop_. "What's the matter?" he pants out, a little hoarsely, but the smirk on his face now says he damn well knows what Dante's up to and he's not about to protest. "You gonna lose it, huh? Gonna come down my throat if you keep on fucking my mouth like that? Maybe you _should_ , I wanna make you lose it for me."  
  
Dante can't stop himself from letting out a _growl_ , low and resonant, and the next instant he's grabbing Nero's arm, dragging him roughly to his feet and shoving him facefirst against the wall, pretending anger at his sputtered laugh. "Oh, you _want_ to make me lose it, do you?" he hisses against Nero's ear, bites the lobe sharply, fumbling for the lube he keeps stashed behind the shampoo bottles as Nero whines and arches back against him at the sting of the bite. "Well, maybe I want the same thing for _you_. Maybe I want you screaming my name for _everyone_ to hear while I'm in you, while my dick is driving you _right_ out of your mind. And you'd love every damn minute of it, wouldn't you--" his fingers are slick now, and he's being none too gentle as he pushes two unceremoniously into Nero, a soft hiss of amusement escaping him when Nero keens and rocks back against his hand. "You have no shame, do you? Not one single bit. You ought to see yourself," he thrusts his fingers hard, once, smirks openmouthed at the sound of pure _want_ that Nero lets out and then stills his hand - pointedly, frustratingly. "You want it so much, _you_ do the work."  
  
" _Fuck_ you," Nero gasps, but there's no animosity in it at all, his fingers curling helplessly against the wall, and he hesitates only the briefest of seconds before he's shifting, finding the leverage to _move_ , to fuck himself desperately on Dante's fingers in pursuit of the pleasure to come. "You're such - a goddamned - fucking - _bastard_ \- please, Dante, _please_ , I want you in me so much--" and whatever he was about to say next promptly turns to a strangled cry as Dante's fingers curl sharply, the insistent pressure against his prostate sending a wave of sensation through him that makes his knees annoyingly weak. Gods, much more of this and he won't - he _can't_ , he's - he--  
  
Then the fingers withdraw, and he's left whining helplessly and scrabbling at the wall for a handhold, because he knows what's coming next and he's pretty sure he won't be able to hold himself up any longer when it does.  
  
"Shameless," Dante _purrs_ into his ear, grasps his hips, as much to steady him as to position him, nudging hard and hot against his desperate hole. "You're just lucky I love you too much to _actually_ break you, huh?"  
  
Nero's eyes widen, but he doesn't even have time to fully process the words before Dante's pushing into him, torturously slow, letting him feel _every_ inch of that damned wonderful cock as it sheathes itself within his willing heat - and he can't hold out any longer, he can't _stand_ it, pressing his hands desperately flat against the wall and letting his forehead land against the unforgiving tile as his head falls forward, his entire body shuddering with the need that will only let him voice one thing in a bare gasp. " _Dante_ \--"  
  
Dante hums breathless sound, a mixture of amusement and smugness, and nips at his ear again, not so much actually speaking as _breathing_ words against the flushed skin. "Go on," he says, and there's something oddly protective in his tone, his arms wrapping round Nero's waist to support him. "Let it all go, Nero."  
  
Nero dimly thinks he should protest, say he wants to _last_ , but then Dante's hips snap sharply forward and he's suddenly _full_ , and he comes completely undone with a sobbing shout he's almost sure anyone even walking by outside must have heard.  
  
"That's it," Dante whispers, _watching_ him with piercing eyes that seem to shimmer with unearthly light, just holding him as he trembles and gasps and maybe pretends that the couple of tears that escaped to trail down his cheeks are just part of the shower spray in his face. "That's it - you're so _gorgeous_ like this," and he sounds almost adoring, really, slides a hand up to Nero's chest to turn the supporting hold into more of an actual embrace, waiting for him to calm enough to actually process that he's being spoken to before going on. "You still up for more?"  
  
"I - yeah," Nero _tries_ to say it normally, but it comes out a pleading moan, and he only doesn't turn several shades of red not found in nature because he's still too incoherent. "Can't...get enough of you...please don't stop..."  
  
Dante chuckles quietly, splays his fingers against Nero's chest, lips finding the shell of his ear in a teasing little kiss. "I had an idea...if you think you can handle it. How do you feel about me," he concentrates as he's speaking, and those spread fingers seem to ripple, to shift, until there's razor-sharp claws pricking against Nero's skin and his palm burns with harmless hellfire. "Driving you _totally_ out of your mind today?"  
  
Nero opens his mouth to say he doesn't get it, but then he _does_ get it, and oh god, that's got to be the hottest fucking thing Dante's ever suggested to him. "You want to...fuck me while you're..." he starts, swallows hard, and turns his head enough to meet that unearthly glowing gaze, taking a shuddery breath and sagging back against Dante as his knees go completely weak at the very thought. "Fuck. Yes. Do it - _break me_."  
  
"Maybe not quite that far," but Dante's half-smirking, and then power's rising around them.  
  
As the heat wave envelops him, as he feels Dante's transformation, all Nero can do is just submit completely to that possessive hold, and he can't help but smile blissfully at the thought of what's about to come.  
  
...Well. Besides him. Multiple times.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes jobs just don't go as planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I admit it, I had entirely too much fun with this one. _Entirely_. Too. Much.
> 
> Not entirely sure why I decided they'd end up humping each other in a supply closet, though, but one takes what one can get...
> 
> This is once more [Featherhead](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Featherhead)'s fault, by the way. She suggested the warehouse idea and we'd been doing some RP with what was basically a sentient demon building, so I yoinked that. Half-blame her. :D

_**Prompt #12 - Frottage** _

* * *

"In here," Dante pants, eyes a little wild as he glances jerkily down the hall, then pulls Nero roughly into the small supply room they've found and kicks the door closed, stifling and stale near-darkness immediately engulfing them.  
  
The job had started out normally enough - mop up a nest of demons that had apparently established itself in an old warehouse not too far from Devil May Cry - but as life always seems to have its way of throwing a monkey wrench into the finest-laid plans, what had been billed as "one-and-done" (as Dante had so casually, _laughably_ termed it) had been anything but, and it wasn't until they were right in the thick of it and fighting for their lives that the full scale of what they were dealing with had become apparent. The only answer, then, had been to retreat, try to regroup, figure out what to _do_ about all of this - and even _running_ had been fraught with its own peril, ambushes springing at nearly every turn, as if the building _itself_ had become some sort of demonic entity hellbound to destroy them.  
  
(That's not out of the realm of possibility, Dante thinks, and he promptly wishes he hadn't thought it.)  
  
"This," Nero hisses, a wash of hot breath against Dante's neck from how close they're pressed together in the cramped space, and in any other situation it'd make him shiver but right now, he hardly even notices it. "Is fucking ridiculous, you know. I did _not_ sign up for fucking--" a pause, while he figures out his phrasing. "--goddamn sentient buildings to try and _obliterate_ me. You owe me big time for this one," and he's jabbing a finger into Dante's chest, trying to be threatening, but the fact that he's trembling just slightly from adrenaline and fear totally ruins the entire effect, and his voice soon softens nervously. "...How the hell are we gonna get out of this one?"  
  
"I don't know," Dante admits, mouth twisting sourly, and catches Nero's hand when it settles heavy and flat against a bruise on his chest, pushing it gently to the side a little. "I think the best we can do right now is wait for things to settle down a little, catch our breath while we still have the chance - we're gonna have to go all out to - heh - mop the rest of this up." (Alright, so maybe he didn't need to crack a _joke_ in the middle of such a serious situation, but it's worth hearing Nero's groan of utter dismay.) "Just keep your head on straight, kid. No way are we being taken down here. We'll figure something out," he goes on, absently gives Nero's hand a small squeeze when he realizes he hasn't let go of it. "Never mind that for now, though. You alright? You were limping pretty bad when I dragged you in here."  
  
Nero takes stock of himself, nods slowly, setting his foot flat against the floor and putting some weight on it. "Nothing broken, I think," he says on a relieved exhale, rotates his ankle this way and that and finally nods again. "Yeah, I'm alright. A little rest'll take care of it--" he's turning his head to look at Dante as best he can in the faint light filtering in around the doorframe, silently thankful for the increased night vision his demonic side grants him, and his eyes widen a little when he sees a dark trail that's wended its way down Dante's cheek and over his jaw. "Never mind _me_ , shit, you're _bleeding_ , Dante - hold still," he demands, reaches up to seize Dante's chin in his claws, gently brushing red-stained hair aside with his human hand to find the source of the blood and wincing at the deep scratch he finds on Dante's temple. "Fuck. When the hell did _this_ happen? Why didn't you say anything?"  
  
"Didn't even notice," Dante points out, quite reasonably in his opinion, lets out a hiss when Nero's fingers cautiously brush against the wound and leans his head away a little. "C'mon, ten, fifteen minutes and I'll be good as new. You really don't need to..." and then he trails off, sucks in a startled breath at the feel of something warm and wet following the crimson trail up to the wound, his capacity to protest briefly shorting out when he realizes that's Nero's _tongue_ cleaning away the blood and it feels strangely - and he forces his thoughts to stop _right there_ , takes a quick breath and twists, grabbing Nero's shoulders to push him back the couple of inches that's all the clearance they have in this damned closet. "Leave it alone, Nero," he says, doesn't manage to sound anywhere near as firm as he'd like to, but it's going to have to do because he feels like there's low-level static skittering along his nerves now and it's all he can do not to succumb to that feeling. "I didn't even _feel_ that, I have no idea where it came from, who knows what the hell kind of shit might have been on whatever did it--"  
  
"Hold. _Still_ ," Nero cuts him off, knocks his hands away and shifts closer again, grabs his chin more firmly this time, enough that any attempts to turn away are going to result in a few not-so-nice punctures from those pulsating claws. "It's _fine_ , Dante. Just tastes like blood, like it goddamn should. And I'd rather not have those bastards try to burst in on us if any of 'em have enough of a sense of smell to realize you're hurt." --and he allows himself a faint smirk when he sees Dante's expression go briefly petulant that he's actually making sense, but it doesn't last long as he leans in, picks up where he left off with a flicker of tongue and feels a little more pleased than he probably should when that makes Dante _shudder_ almost unnoticeably. "...Besides. You like it anyway, don't you?" he breathes, pushes damp hair out of the way and licks slowly over the wound proper, and this close he can _hear_ Dante swallow a groan at the sensation. "Yeah, I bet you do. Turning you on, isn't it?"  
  
Dante hisses softly between his teeth, briefly considers actually trying to deny that, but honestly, their proximity means he really _can't_ and he just ends up not saying anything at all, closing his eyes and focusing on trying to keep his breaths even despite the traitorous little stabs of heat going through him with every swipe of Nero's tongue along the wound. Of all the places to be getting worked up, and of all the things to be getting worked up _over_ \- though this wouldn't really be the worst place he's ever had sex, to be honest, or even the most unbelievable thing that's turned him on at an extremely inopportune time...but he reminds himself that's _not_ the point, takes as steady of a breath as he can manage and reaches up, grabbing Nero's wrist to try and force him to let go.  
  
"That's enough," he says, almost a rough growl, starts to exhale slowly in relief when Nero obediently lets go, and then lets out a startled grunt when his back unexpectedly hits the wall and he's being pinned there by Nero's surprisingly immovable weight. "Hey, I said--"  
  
"Yeah, I heard you." Nero's smirking - it's obvious this close, so close their faces are nearly touching - as he casually settles his hands on Dante's waist, presses flush against him, seeming to take pleasure in the silent growl that vibrates in his chest at the contact. "Doesn't mean I'm gonna listen, though. And I don't think you _want_ me to stop, do you?"  
  
"...You are _impossible_ ," Dante groans, since he can't really deny _that_ either, letting his head thunk back against the wall and making one last effort to try and get some control over himself - it works about as well as can be expected, which is naturally not at all, but he feels better for having at least _tried_ and the tension slowly leaves his shoulders (helped along, admittedly, by the fact that Nero's lips have found the hollow of his throat and are laying openmouthed, biting kisses there that make his body jerk a little with each one.) "I can't believe we're doing this. The hell's gotten into you - don't answer that," he interrupts himself, brings a hand up to curl tight into Nero's hair and pulls his head up for a kiss to keep him from making the obvious joke.  
  
Nero snorts a laughing mock-protest, rocks against Dante sharply and bites at his lip, eyes seeming to glint just a little in the near-darkness when that hand releases his hair in favor of sliding down to settle on his hip instead. "You can't tell me you're actually _complaining_ ," he breathes, rocks again just to feel the tempting swell of Dante's cock already straining against the front of his pants, smirking most smugly at the breathy hiss that motion elicits. "But if you'd really rather just watch me handle myself, then I guess..."  
  
Dante doesn't even let that sentence properly end, just takes a sharp breath at the mental image and then _moves_ before he can even think consciously about what he's doing, grabbing hold of Nero and shoving him harshly away, immediately on him with another sharp kiss to swallow the grunt he lets out when his back hits the opposite wall. "I should _make_ you handle yourself," he growls, clamps his hands firmly onto Nero's hips and grinds sharply forward, feeling a flicker of smug satisfaction when Nero hisses a swear and tightly grabs hold of his ass to keep him from pulling back. "Your sense of self-preservation might be even worse than mine, and that's _really_ saying something." --but he can't sound the least bit genuinely angry as he says that and it ruins the whole effect, so he gives up there and just lowers his head a little, fastening his teeth just below the corner of Nero's jaw in a sharp bite that makes him squirm.  
  
( _Damn_ the kid for getting to him like this, he thinks distantly, and damn _himself_ for letting it happen - except he wants it just as much, and if that makes him a hypocrite, so fucking be it.)  
  
"Self-preservation," Nero says breathlessly, splays his fingers along the curve of Dante's ass in a possessive squeeze, "is _not_ fucking important right now," and he's punctuating his words by rocking sharply forward as best he can, pushing his body against Dante's with a half-swallowed groan as his cock throbs insistently at the delicious friction, head falling back against the wall with a thump to temptingly bare the curve of his throat - there's just something about this that's setting him off like nothing else, pushing _all_ the happy buttons at once, and he's not sure what it is but he _is_ sure he doesn't want it to end. " _Fuck_ , Dante, I - yeah, just like that, don't _stop_ ," he tries to swallow another groan, doesn't succeed in the least and digs his fingers in a little, feeling a dim spark of smug pleasure when Dante shudders with a low resonant sound. "I want - to feel you, _please_ , c'mon..."  
  
A brief flicker of confusion passes over Dante's face, but it takes him only a split second longer before Nero's meaning clicks and then he _smirks_ , reluctantly lets go of Nero and cants his hips back just enough he can reach between them. "Yeah - yeah," he agrees, rough and breathless, fumbles his belt undone with fingers that don't quite want to coordinate properly and by the time he's working his pants open Nero's doing the same, the both of them making nearly identical noises of frustration that don't subside until they're both freed and pressed against each other once more, Nero letting out a breathy keening sound and Dante a hissing growl at the skin-to-skin contact. That's more like it, that's so much better - and it's not long before Nero's got his face buried in Dante's neck, panting out helpless little noises against the throbbing pulse beneath his lips as he ruts against the man like he just can't get _enough_ , the harsh little noises that vibrate in Dante's throat and the slick warmth of dripping precome smeared against their cocks combining with the pleasure to drive him completely out of his mind. He ought to be ashamed of this, he dimly thinks; this is no place to be doing something like this, they've got more important things to focus on, they--  
  
\--but then Dante shifts, rolls his hips agonizingly slow with a low, stuttered _growl_ , and Nero loses control, his thoughts promptly splintering away into nothingness as he bites down on Dante's neck to stifle his shrill whine of release.  
  
Dante gasps, groans, breathes out a hoarse " _Shit_ " and curls a hand around the back of Nero's head, and then he's coming too, and the feel of the heat that spreads between them is perhaps the best thing Nero's ever felt in his life.  
  
They spend a few long moments just soaking in the afterglow, comfortable silence and sex-fragrant air surrounding them in a blissful little cocoon, and it's only when it sinks in just how much of a damned sticky mess they've made of themselves that Nero even attempts to drag his coherency back by the figurative scruff, bringing clumsy hands up to sort of push at Dante's shoulders. "Gotta clean up," he says, still a little breathless, and he can't help but privately agree when Dante lets out a reluctant groan that quite clearly says he doesn't _want_ to pull away, but he does anyway and thank whatever deity might be responsible for them ending up _here_ , there's at least plenty of things they can use to try and get themselves presentable again. (Though it does feel weird, Nero finds himself thinking with a wry smile, to just casually snatch a handful of paper towels from a mostly-unused roll and try to mop up some of their mutual mess, but even so.) It doesn't take long, anyway, and soon they're both putting themselves back in order and Dante's shifting to lean towards the door, putting an ear to it, listening intently.  
  
"Clear," he says finally, exhales what sounds suspiciously like a relieved sigh, turns to give Nero a half-amused stare that seems to glow in the darkness. "You ready to go try and kick some ass again, or are you gonna trip over your own feet trying to get out of here?"  
  
"Is your ass on the list of options I can be kicking?" Nero retorts, feeling his cheeks heat, but at the same time he's glad for the embarrassed annoyance - it's clearing his head, helping him get his focus back. "Just open the damn door and let's go obliterate some demons."  
  
Dante chuckles, gives him an affectionate grin and nods once. "That's what I like to hear. Let's get going."  
  
And this time, the demons don't even know what hit them.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nero's turning 21 soon, and Dante's not about to let him get away with not taking advantage of that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, alright, this one's rather late, and I have no excuses this time save for "sitting down and doing the thing just wasn't happening". But uh. It's done! Yay!
> 
> (It also wasn't going to involve any hair pulling, originally, but then I _really_ wanted Dante having his hair pulled and enjoying the fuck out of it, so... *shrugs*)
> 
> I apparently headcanon that pheromones are to devils as alcohol is to humans, too. Makes sense in my book.

_**Prompt #13 - Intoxication** _

* * *

"So let me get this straight," Nero says slowly, just _looking_ at Dante (and just as equally _not_ looking at the plastic bag he's holding) with a slightly disbelieving expression, slowly stepping aside to let him in. "You're going to let me get drunk - no, rephrase that. You're going to _get_ me drunk?"  
  
"If that's the way you want to put it," Dante says cheerfully, taking full advantage of the invitation to go take up residence on the couch, glass clinking noisily as he sets the bag on the coffee table and makes himself comfortable, kicking his right foot up to rest on his left knee and not even bothering to hide his smirk when Nero's eyes are drawn to the apex of the triangle his legs now form. "You're the one who said you wanted to see what it's like, anyway. Something wrong with me giving you that opportunity?" --and naturally he isn't even giving Nero a chance to think coherently enough to answer, just patting the cushion next to him with one of those _looks_ that demands complete obedience even despite looking so casually unbothered, slinging an arm round the younger Hunter's shoulders when he reluctantly sits. "C'mon, kid, _relax_. What's the worst that could happen?"  
  
Nero privately thinks Dante doesn't actually want him to answer that, but honestly, he's tempted to do it anyway, and instead he picks the first excuse to come to mind so he doesn't _actually_ say something they'll both regret. "You _do_ realize I'm too young for--"  
  
" _Pfft_ ," Dante snorts, drapes his other arm across the back of the couch and leans his head back. "By all of two days."  
  
"Kyrie's going to kill me," Nero tries next, full of agitation.  
  
Dante rolls his eyes heavenward, tolerantly. "S'pose it never occurred to you that I might've asked her permission first?"  
  
"You _what_ ," Nero starts, decides he doesn't want to finish the question, and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Look, you and me getting drunk is not a good idea."  
  
"I beg to differ. It's the _best_ idea." Dante snorts again, shakes his head, fingers tapping against the back of the couch. "Seriously, c'mon. At least quit making excuses and tell me what's actually eating at you."  
  
"I'm not--" But Nero can't finish that sentence, and he knows Dante wouldn't believe him even if he did manage to, so he just sighs and slouches forward, draping his arms over his knees. "...How the hell do you even do that?"  
  
Dante shrugs, sits forward himself, head turning to eye Nero with a piercing but not unkind gaze. "I know you, that's how. So, lemme guess--" he makes a show of thinking about it, but to his credit, he does drop the dramatic act when Nero only lets out a distracted snort and refuses to look at him, clearly embarrassed. "You're nervous about it, aren't you. Never been drunk before - never even the slightest bit buzzed, if what your girl told me is anywhere near true - and you don't know how you'll act, or how you'll _react_. That's fair," he says, puts up a finger when Nero starts to protest. "But, chew this over for a little while. Where would you rather have it happen for the first time - with me, who you know you can trust not to take advantage of you unless you _ask_ for it - or, well..." another shrug, trailing off, because he knows Nero will get the gist without him having to say it outright. "Makes sense, right?"  
  
Nero's mouth presses briefly into a thin, petulant line, because god damn it, it _does_ make sense, and Dante's not even wrong. "I hate you sometimes."  
  
"Also fair." Dante smirks, gives him an affectionate squeeze and sits back again. "So, how about it?"  
  
A few hours later, they're well into their cups - Dante, naturally, beating Nero out by _quite_ a large margin in how much he's drunk, by virtue of being larger in both height and weight _and_ by being half-devil instead of just a quarter - and if he's quite honest with himself, Nero's long since forgot why he was even uncertain about all of this in the first place. He feels good, pleasantly warm and more than a little fuzzy-headed (though Dante's thoughtfulness in bringing snacks as well as booze means he still has _some_ coherency to speak of), and he's really quite content to just lean into Dante's side and listen to the stories he's telling, the man proving rather garrulous after downing the great majority of a bottle of whiskey. (It's not unpleasant, though - he's always privately found Dante's voice immensely nice to listen to, even if he'd only ever admit it under great duress, and in his current half-dazed state, he feels he could listen _forever_ and be happy.) Besides, the current story's proving rather amusing, a cheerful recounting of one of the first times Dante was drunk himself, and-- "Wait a second," he says abruptly, when he realizes his thoughts have drifted a little, reaches for a handful of chips but doesn't eat any just yet. "Did you just say what I think you just said?"  
  
"What, that I came in my pants just from having my hair pulled? Sure did," Dante says, cheerful and without even the _slightest_ modicum of shame or embarrassment, filching one of the chips from Nero's hand and popping it into his mouth. "Never managed that one since, though."  
  
Nero opens his mouth, shuts it, opens it again, and finally decides to occupy it with a few chips while he's trying to figure out what exactly he's going to say in response. "Didn't even know that was possible," he finally manages, a little lamely, but he's just drunk enough _himself_ that he doesn't think better of going on. "You're fucking with me, aren't you."  
  
"Swear to god, I'm not." Dante slants him a sideways glance, starting to smirk. "...Why? You wanna try it?"  
  
Nero's mouth falls open in surprise, and he can't even be embarrassed that he nearly dropped a half-chewed chip in his lap. "...I am _not_ answering that," he says, and it's only once the words are out that he realizes that's an answer in itself, and well, there's no use in trying to deny it now. "You offering to _let_ me?"  
  
Taking a slow breath, Dante eyes him - sizes him up, almost - and the smirk grows into a grin, one that remains as he drains the last swigs from his glass, half-melted ice clinking against the side when he sets it down. " _Offering_ , nothing," he says, and he really _must_ have a negative value of shame when he's drunk, from the way his voice drops to a low, rich murmur. "I'm _asking_ for it."  
  
Heat's sparking itself off deep within Nero now, and he doesn't even give a single moment of thought to trying to resist it.  
  
" _Yeah_ , you are," he half-growls, and then he's pushing himself into Dante's lap, kissing him harshly, teeth scraping at his lower lip just to make him shiver and groan before drawing back. "You're _always_ fucking asking for it. You and your goddamn confidence, the way you're always acting like you fucking _own_ the place the minute you walk in - you have any idea how damn hot that makes me? Makes me want to throw you down," he's sliding brilliant claws into Dante's hair as he speaks, gripping the strands with just enough tension to feel, "and make you _beg_ for it, over and over again - make you scream for me, forget you can say anything but my name - and you'd fucking _love_ that, wouldn't you? God, the things I want to _do_ to you--" and his grip tightens, tugging on that fistful of silvery hair, his expression full of soft amazement as Dante hisses and lets his eyes fall halfway closed in response to the slight sting. "You'd let me do every last fucking one of them right now, wouldn't you?"  
  
" _Yes_ ," Dante breathes, eyes falling completely shut, unable to hold back a resonant groan when Nero tugs again, claws raking over his scalp. "Anything you want, keep doing that and I'm _all_ yours..."  
  
Nero grins, sharp and toothy. "Damn straight you are."   
  
And then he _pulls_ , hard enough to force Dante's head back, watching with an utterly enthralled expression as Dante digs his fingers into the cushions and _arches_ in response.  
  
(If he hadn't already thought this was entirely worth it, he definitely does now.)  
  
" _Fuck_ ," Dante groans, shivering like he's trying very hard to keep still and only just managing it, and he's actually panting a little when that grip slackens experimentally, one eye opening just enough to look up at Nero with a decidedly _submissive_ expression - he honestly hadn't expected this aggressiveness, but he's definitely not complaining in the least, especially not when Nero gives him a look that has no right to be so _satisfied_ and pulls again, the hot burn on his scalp sending a wave of incandescent pleasure sparking through him. "Shit, yes, _harder_ \--" and that's an outright moan that shudders from him when Nero obeys, tugging hard enough he's forced to lift off the couch a little at the threat of losing that handful of hair, wisps of hellfire curling around his fingers that he only _just_ has the focus to keep from scorching the cushions. ( _Fuck_ , he thinks distantly, because it's been so _long_ since anyone's got him so close to losing control like this, and he knows he shouldn't but god he wants, he _wants_...) " _Nero_...don't - nn - don't stop..."  
  
"As if I would--" Nero's voice is little more than a hissing growl, low and dangerous, and there's just the briefest hint of something otherworldly glistening in his eyes as he pulls _hard_ , bends close to bite down on Dante's throat when that forces his head back again, feeling more than hearing the sharp and desperate sound those combined actions elicit. He can sense so much power, he can almost _taste_ it, can tell how close Dante is coming to just losing control right then and there - and while he'd ordinarily be at least a _little_ cautious about all of this, the alcohol and the pheromones and gods only know what else have combined to tear down that last little wall that tries so valiantly to keep him somewhat in check, and he's fully intending to take as much advantage of this situation as he can.  
  
"Dante," he says around the bite, lets up and licks over the marks he's left, hot and angry red beneath his tongue. "You feel like doing something for me?"  
  
It takes Dante a long moment to reply; he's panting, clinging to the cushions like a drowning man to a life preserver, and his eyes don't _quite_ want to focus completely when he looks at Nero but he's trying anyway, wetting his lips with a shaky swipe of tongue and unconsciously trying to follow that teasing mouth as it leaves his neck completely. "Yeah," he gasps out, sounding like he really _means_ it, and it really shouldn't be possible for his pupils to dilate any further with sheer arousal from how wide they're already blown, but Nero's human hand settling against his throat in a heavy press somehow makes it happen, and now his hips are frantically pushing up against thin air like he's seeking something to rut against in his helpless need. "Fuck, anything you want, _anything_..."  
  
Nero smiles, maybe a little too sweetly, shifts his hold on Dante's hair so he's got a most sizable handful and leans in, so close their lips are just touching as he stares into those hazy eyes and feels the most fucking powerful he's ever felt in his life. "Stop holding back," he growls, resonant and nearly inhuman, "and _scream_."  
  
He tightens his grip, pulls _hard_ , and Dante obeys with the most beautiful orgasmic scream he's _ever_ heard in his life, one that trails off into a gasping snarl when the flare of power that comes with a Devil Trigger washes through the room in a wave of searing heat.  
  
 _Jackpot_ , Nero thinks, and the presence thrumming with impatient want in the back of his mind agrees completely, lighting his eyes with brilliant pleasure.  
  
The next thing he knows, he's flat on his back on the floor, his head just barely missing the coffee table by mere centimeters, and he can't stifle a bark of delighted laughter as he gazes up into the hellfire-bright eyes currently seeming to try and bore a hole straight into his soul.  
  
"You could really," Dante says, a rumbling growl of words that are honestly more felt than heard, and sparks are snapping wildly around him like so many fireworks as he presses a claw to Nero's cheek, rakes it across the skin hard enough to immediately raise an angry welt and lets out an echoing snort when Nero's response is to tilt his head _into_ the brief sting. "Look a little _less_ pleased with yourself right now--" except he clearly doesn't _mean_ that, and honestly, in his current state of sobriety Nero probably wouldn't even find it the least bit threatening, so it's not even worth pursuing the subject even if he were as genuinely angry as he's pretending. "No, forget it. You've had your fun - and now it's my turn to have mine." He can't really grin, not in _this_ form, but he makes a damn good effort at it anyway, if only to see Nero shiver with a wave of pure want so strong he can _smell_ it - just as much an intoxicant to his demonic side as the alcohol was to his human one, it's clouding his mind, and he knows he probably should at least try to be a little careful but he can't honestly remember why. "No complaints?"  
  
"Not a damn one," Nero groans, arches under him, shivering again as sharp claws hook into the neckband of his shirt, tugging as if threatening to simply tear the fabric away. "Fuck, I want you. Don't you dare make me wait..."  
  
"I _should_ ," Dante hisses, but they both know he won't actually do it, especially since it's all he can do to pull his hand back before he actually _does_ rip Nero's clothes off, reluctantly climbing off of him to let him strip and eyeing him intently as he does just that. It's a sight he'll never tire of, he swears, one he's never managed to tire of yet in all the time they've been together - and then Nero's completely naked and just _looking_ at him with hungry pleading eyes and he shudders all over, letting out a nearly subsonic growl and sitting back, the thick armored plating that covers his more vulnerable bits shifting and retracting. "If you want it so badly," he says, a half-snarl, shoves his hand underneath the couch for the small jar he knows is there and tosses it in Nero's direction, vaguely amused when he fumbles it instead of catching it properly. "Then _you_ get yourself ready for me."  
  
Nero nods once, swallows hard, fumbling the lid off the jar and getting his fingers slick, and then he's lifting himself shakily up onto his knees and reaching back and Dante briefly finds himself thinking this ought to be downright _criminal_ in a way - those expressions, those desperate noises, are so deliciously and overwhelmingly _lewd_ that it's all he can do to simply sit and watch, and by the time Nero's satisfactorily prepared to take him, he's panting noticeably and he can't even manage to be ashamed of that, just reaching out to span his claws a little shakily over slender hips in what he hopes is a properly bracing hold. "Are you teasing me deliberately," he says, voice a sibilant hiss like a steam radiator brought to life, "or are you just a natural at making me _lose_ it when you should be doing no such thing?"  
  
A snort escapes Nero, and he manages to meet fire-bright eyes, reaches down to grasp Dante's cock and slick it the best he can, thrilling at the size of it in his trembling hand as his palm slides over the steep ridges lining the underside. "Why shouldn't I?" he counters, and he's panting too, his entire body shivering when Dante growls and those wicked claws dig into his hips hard enough to sting. "You really that scared you're actually gonna break me?"  
  
" _Yes_ ," Dante starts to snarl, just a little angry because that ought to be so _obvious_ \--  
  
\--and then Nero's giving him no chance to go _on_ , gripping him with both hands now and pushing roughly down onto him with a shrill keening cry, and he's so sinfully hot, so _tight_ and radiating so much sheer power and _need_ that Dante's capacity for anything even resembling coherent speech or thought goes right out the figurative window.  
  
He meets Nero's eyes, just long enough to see they've come alight and are glowing a brilliant taunting red, and he gives in.  
  
His movements are swift and precise, despite the clumsiness his own sheer desire imparts, and he doesn't even give Nero a chance to realize he's now flat on his back again and being quite firmly pinned; one hand is now clamped onto his hip tight enough for vicious claws to draw blood, and the other has fisted into his hair, returning the earlier favor with a relentless pressure that makes him curse and arch, trying his hardest to meet the punishing thrusts that feel like they might well split him open but unable to keep up with the sheer ferocity. This is honestly nothing like he'd been expecting at all, considering how carefully Dante usually holds onto his control when his demonic side is involved, and he knows he's likely to regret this later, but at the moment he _really_ can't bring himself to mind it in the least - it's utterly thrilling to be dominated so thoroughly he'd never have a snowball's chance in hell of stopping it, to know that all that strength and power and sheer force is currently directed at driving him so far out of his mind he may well end up too far _in_ it, and he doesn't even try to stop himself from clinging as best he can when sharp teeth close onto his shoulder and the sting makes his whole body jerk. He's feeling so much right now, so _goddamn_ much, he's not going to last and he knows it and that _should_ probably be embarrassing, but he can't remember why for the life of him.  
  
"Don't," Dante hisses against his shoulder, letting up on the bite enough to speak, and those claws rake over his hip, leaving a trail of crimson wetness and an agonizing pleasure in their wake, "you dare even think about holding back - you are mine, you're _mine_ , you do what I _tell_ you--" and even as ferally threatening as the words are, there's still a _little_ undertone of something unexpectedly sweet in it all, and Nero's dimly surprised to feel a strange sort of warmth welling up in him along with the nearly unbearable pleasure, just gasping out something shrill and breathless that he hopes sounded like the agreement it was and burying his face into the rough scales that line Dante's neck. (It's not like he'd be _able_ to hold back anyway, not like this, not when he feels so _much_ \--) He feels like even the smallest thing could break him, right now, shatter him completely and send him over the edge, and even as much of an utter blob of blissful jelly as he's been rendered at the moment, he thinks he knows exactly how to get that one last little push.  
  
He tilts his head up a little, so his voice will be directed in the general direction of Dante's ear, and breathes out words full of all the emotion he's usually far too sober to express - "Love you...so much...Dante..."  
  
Dante shudders in surprise, lets out a noise that's somewhere between startled exhalation and exceptionally pleased hum, and arches over him to look him in the eye, angle shifting just a bit as the next thrust drives deep and harsh.  
  
He manages just the barest hint of a smile, but then the pleasure is too overwhelming, and Nero doesn't even try to fight it as his very consciousness seems to fragment away into blissful light.  
  
He supposes he must have blacked out for a moment then; when he can process his surroundings again, Dante's dropped out of Devil Trigger and is wrapped around him, fingers pressed possessively tight against his back, and he feels so delightfully warm and satisfied that he never wants to move - he eventually does, however, slowly lifts his head and blinks a few times, and the utter adoration he can see in Dante's face when their eyes meet only makes him feel that much warmer. "Stop...looking...at me...like that," he manages nonetheless, because now he's _capable_ of embarrassment again and he can feel the blood rising to his cheeks, but he doesn't look away. "...'s...really embarrassing..."  
  
"Hm," is Dante's only response, soft and almost distracted, and after a long moment, he brings a hand up to gently brush his fingers across Nero's cheek, the faintest of smiles tugging at his mouth when Nero sighs and leans into the touch. "So, you love me, huh. You really mean that? Or are you just saying it because you're drunk?"  
  
"...Yes," Nero answers both questions at once, a bit petulantly, and _now_ he's embarrassed enough to break eye contact, burying his face into Dante's neck and breathing in the scent of him, pretending not to notice the near-silent laugh that vibrates in his chest. "Something _wrong_ with that? Because I can take it back if--"  
  
"No, no - nothing wrong with it. Not a damn thing." Dante laughs again, outright this time, shifts to turn them both onto their sides, almost cradling him with a huff of a contented sigh. "I was just wondering when you'd finally get around to _actually_ saying it to me, that's all."  
  
Nero makes an indignant sound, bites his neck just hard enough to make him shiver and looks up at him again. "Fuck you. I'm taking it back."  
  
"Uh-huh, sure." Dante considers him for a moment, looking entirely too amused, then kisses him gently, humming soft contentment when he sighs through his nose and nearly melts into it, smiling when their lips part. "Love you too, by the way. Now how about we go have a shower and get you to bed? You're gonna regret ever existing in the morning."  
  
"Probably," Nero agrees with the barest hint of a wry smile, gives a small headshake and pushes reluctantly away, hissing softly between his teeth when Dante slips out of him - it doesn't _hurt_ , not really, but it does ache, and he can only be glad for the increased healing factor that's probably going to be the only reason he can actually walk tomorrow. "...Tell me something, though. Did you _really_ ask Kyrie if you could get me drunk?"  
  
Dante levers himself to his feet, grinning most unrepentantly as he offers Nero a hand up. "Well, maybe not in those exact words. What I _said_ was, 'how would you feel if I asked you to have other plans tonight and showed up with some booze for Nero?' Went over better than I thought - she didn't even hit me..."  
  
Vaguely aware his jaw is hanging open a little, Nero just _stares_ , finally manages to shut his mouth and buries his face in his human hand. "I'm _definitely_ taking it back now. I hate you."  
  
"Yeah, yeah." Dante slips an arm around his waist, starts tugging him towards the bathroom. "Let's just go have that shower. Gotta clean up before she comes home."  
  
"Really hate you," Nero mutters, and now both hands are over his face, but for some reason, he just can't stop smiling.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dante's got a big job coming up, and Nero can't stop worrying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH
> 
> MY GOD
> 
> this took me _fucking forever_ and I am SO sorry about that. *massive facepalming*
> 
> (I think it's finally sinking in that I only have one more prompt after this and then it's _done_. What am I gonna do with myself.)
> 
> Anyway. This, for the record, is just before Dante goes off to beat the snot out of Balrog, since that's about a year before DMC5 and I needed a suitably large job that could fit into the timeline (as well as work nicely into the last prompt.) It's a fair bit less...openly...explicit than the last chapters have been, and for that I apologize, but one does what one must when one's prompts don't goddamn want to be written.
> 
> So sorry this took so long. m(_ _)m Enjoy! (Hopefully!)

_**Prompt #14 - Urgent Fucking** _

* * *

"...Tomorrow morning," Dante says quietly, looking into his glass so he doesn't have to look Nero in the eye, gently sloshing the remains of his drink back and forth. "That's when I'm going."  
  
Nero doesn't say anything for a long moment - just considers that, staring into his own drink, turning Dante's words over and over in his head. He's well aware the life of a Devil Hunter isn't all fun and games, and it's inevitable that occasionally a huge job will come down the pipeline, but even so... "Makes sense, I guess," he says, trying not to let it come out as flat as it wants to, lifting the glass to his lips and draining it before he goes on. "...Look, I - I'm not gonna say I'm not upset about this. You know me better than that. But I also know I can't stop you, and even if I could, I _shouldn't_...not when there's lives at stake. I just--" he considers, eyes his glass as if he's irritated it hasn't refilled itself, and swipes Dante's from his hand instead, finishing off what remains there too and setting it down. "I swear to god, you had _better_ come back safe. Otherwise I'm gonna find a way to bring you back, and then I'm gonna kill you myself."  
  
"I'd let you," Dante responds dryly, sits forward to reach for the bottle of whiskey, eyeing it like he can't believe they've finished most of it off between just the two of them before shrugging and refilling both glasses partway. "I'd take you with me if I could - you know that. But it's just too dangerous," he trails into a sigh, takes a long drink, relishing the smooth burn of the alcohol as it goes down. "Damn it, I was never good at this kind of thing. Just think about it this way. I'm not saying _goodbye_ , Nero - got every intention of coming back. So, uh--" another pause, another drink, his free hand coming up to rub at the side of his neck. "Wait for me, yeah?"  
  
"Yeah," Nero says, quiet, swallowing hard to try and get the sudden lump out of his throat, and he's not even bothering to pretend his eyes aren't welling up just a little. "I - yeah."  
  
Dante curses under his breath, puts his glass down, leaning forward to wrap an arm around Nero's shoulders and tug him closer. "Shit - c'mere - it's alright, it's gonna be alright--" but perhaps tellingly, he's not telling Nero not to cry, just wrapping him in a tight embrace and simply holding him, running a slightly clumsy hand through his hair as he near-silently gets the tears out of his system. "I'm coming back - I promise. No way in hell would I leave you alone. Besides, knowing I've got you to come back to means I gotta be that much more careful, right?" --and he finds _himself_ blinking back the faintest hint of gathering tears, takes a deep breath and forces a grin that's only a shadow of his usual warmth and joviality. "You know what, I think that's enough drinking for the both of us. How about we go have a shower and try to sober up a little?"  
  
"Don't want a shower," Nero mutters into his shoulder, takes a deep breath of his own and looks up, swiping his hand over his eyes. "Rather have _you_."  
  
Pausing for a moment, just looking at him, Dante finally nods and cracks a genuine smile. "I think that can be arranged."  
  
Not five minutes later they're in the bedroom, Nero's fingers tangled desperately into Dante's hair and Dante's teeth catching at his lower lip in a needy biting kiss, and somehow they're managing to shed clothing without having to detach from each other _too_ much and then Nero's flat on his back on the bed, still gripping at Dante's hair and keening out helpless sounds as unexpectedly sharp teeth latch onto his neck. This isn't the first time they've just gone at one another as if they couldn't possibly wait another moment, but this time - it feels different, more _urgent_ somehow, and soon he's only just holding himself back from outright writhing in need, panting and whimpering and wrapping his legs about Dante's waist in a fumbling, clumsy effort to pull him _closer_. "Come on," he gasps out, and it's really a wonder his voice is as steady as it is. "I _need_ you, Dante. Stop - nn - fucking _teasing_ me, and just do me already..."  
  
"Patience," Dante manages, a low, strained growl, "is a _virtue_ \--" but he's not actually protesting, nor is he hesitating, the ever-present lube soon in his hand so he can get himself slick, knowing from experience that Nero can easily take him without being opened first - and to be fair, _he_ doesn't want to wait in the least either, so he isn't about to argue. "Legs up," he goes on, helps Nero's legs up over his shoulders and lines himself up, taking just a brief second to admire the sight beneath him (Nero so flushed, so disheveled, hard as nails and dripping precome onto his stomach and so _open_ for him, ready for the taking) before he rocks forward and buries himself to the hilt, his shuddering groan harmonizing perfectly with Nero's choked gasping cry. " _Shit_ , you're always - so damned _tight_ like this," he breathes out, manages to get a hand up to cup Nero's cheek, gently urging him to turn his head a little so their eyes meet. "You're good, yeah?"  
  
"Yeah - yeah," Nero's voice is hardly audible, a low, shuddery moan, and he arches the best he can, crossing his ankles behind Dante's neck. " _Fuck me_."  
  
Dante takes a breath, slow and steadying, nods once since he can't answer verbally in the face of how _nice_ that is, and pulls back for the first thrust.  
  
That's all it takes for everything to come undone, all control promptly thrown to the figurative winds, and Nero's soon clinging to Dante as tightly as he can (never mind the awkwardness of their position) and crying out in helpless bliss as he's pounded into the bed, knowing he's still going to be feeling this in the morning but not minding that thought even a bit. It's what he wants, what he _needs_ , to be feeling Dante driving mercilessly into him over and over again every time he even so much as moves a little too suddenly, and he's hardly even aware he's crying a little again as he clutches at Dante's arms, feels trembling hands grip tighter at his legs as their eyes meet in mutual understanding of what they just can't voice. (Not that they would need to, but still, the thought is there--) It's overwhelming him, flooding him with feelings he just isn't quite sure how to handle and he doesn't even try, just reaches up and tangles his fingers into Dante's hair and pulls him down into a kiss, panting against his lips helplessly. "Don't... _stop_...want to feel you forever..."  
  
"I know," Dante responds, a bare breath of a groan, nips at his lip sharply and then arches over him to look him in the eye again, fingers digging into his thighs, feeling muscles bunched tight beneath the desperate touch. "I want it too..."  
  
(Honestly, Nero's pretty sure that's the sweetest thing Dante's ever said, and it makes him smile, a wavery and helpless expression.)  
  
"But I guess...we'll just have to be satisfied - with what we've _got_ \--" Dante cuts himself off with another groan, another deep, hard thrust, and Nero's more than happy to take the unspoken invitation to stop talking in favor of letting shrill desperate sounds tumble out of him, feeling the knot of hot tension deep within him drawing tighter and tighter until it's ready to simply just snap. Dante's right, they have to be satisfied with this, it's all they have - and that thought just pushes him to somehow hold onto Dante even more strongly, clawing at him in desperation as if to pull him closer even though there _is_ no more closer to go, shuddering and gasping as he's relentlessly pushed towards that edge of inevitability, unable to even think about resisting it even if he wanted to. It's all so much, _too_ much, and he's going to lose control and he knows it, he wants it, _craves_ it--   
  
"Dante - I - fuck, _please_ , I'm - gonna--" he manages, digs claws pulsing bright with sheer _need_ into Dante's arm, his whole body shuddering at the resonant groan the sharp sting elicits. "Please, _please_ \--"  
  
"Let it - go," Dante gasps out, looking down at him now with eyes lit by brilliant hellfire, demonic suns that seem to burn straight through him, as if to tear away that shameful humanity that's still trying to hold him back. "Want to - see you - love it, _fuck_ , love _you_ \--"  
  
Nero's eyes widen just a little, and he sobs once from pure overwhelming emotion, letting himself drown in that hell-bright stare as he simply _shatters_ , sweet release sweeping over him to the tune of a fragile and adoring cry.  
  
Dante's not far behind, of course, shuddering to a halt with gasps and growls and little breathless curses that don't sound like any language Nero's ever heard before, and then somehow his legs are down without him even noticing and Dante's all but collapsing on top of him, tangling around him and pressing affectionate openmouthed kisses all over his neck and jaw and lips as the two of them try to catch their breath and calm down. His head's spinning, his thighs burn and ache from being held tense like that for so long, he's a mess of sweat and come and tears and _gods above_ it's damn near the best he's ever felt in his life - he inhales slow and deep, feels the dull burn in his chest left from his earlier stuttered gasps, and lets the air out again, pushing his face into Dante's neck once the man lifts his head enough to make it feasible. "Fuck," he says, and it's quiet, mindblown, full of all the things he just doesn't have the mind to say.  
  
"Yeah," Dante agrees with a near-silent chuckle, brings a hand up to curl protectively around his head, clearly just as unwilling to let go of him as he's unwilling to pull away. "Couldn't agree more."  
  
"...Too much effort, right?" Nero smiles, and it's genuine; though the sadness and fear hasn't eased, it's under control now, easier to push away. "Hey...can we stay like this tonight? I mean - _exactly_ like this. Don't move," he clarifies, brings a leg up around Dante's waist briefly, but then lowers it again with a faint groan when that makes a particularly tense muscle twinge. "I just - I want to feel you until you _have_ to leave. I'm sorry, it's kinda stupid..."  
  
Dante makes a soothing sound, a demonic purr that rumbles in his chest and throat, and holds him tighter. "It's not stupid," he reassures, and when he says it like _that_ , Nero finds, surprisingly, that he can believe it. "Don't worry. I'm not moving even one inch. Promise."  
  
"...Thank you," Nero murmurs, presses his face a little closer to Dante's neck, close enough to feel the strong steady pulse under his cheek. "Love you, Dante."  
  
"I know," Dante nods, ghosts a kiss across his hair. "Love you too. And I promise you I'll come back...so just wait for me."  
  
"I will," Nero breathes, and his smile doesn't fade even as he begins drifting into sleep, Dante not far behind.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been a long week of waiting, and Nero's not sure he can take any more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOOOOOLY SHIIIIIIIIIIIIT this is late. I'm sorry. I'm _so_ sorry. *gigantic facepalms*
> 
> But, hey, here we are. The End Of The Fic, capital letters totally necessary. I'll be honest, I kinda didn't want this to end, which is probably some of what contributed to the lateness - I also managed to fall very, _very_ ill, which totally wrecked my focus, and I'm still not completely over all the health shit but I finally scraped up enough determination to get it finished. Sincerest apologies if the last half of the chapter sucks as a result.
> 
> But I digress--
> 
> This has been one hell of a journey, friends, and I'm _so_ glad we've shared it. Thank you all for reading, and I hope you'll enjoy whatever I come out with in the future. Y'all are amazing and I love you. <3

_**Prompt #15 - Reunion** _

* * *

 "Nero," Kyrie says gently, reaching across the table to put her hand on his arm, expression soft and sympathetic. "Just remember...he promised he'd come back."  
  
Nero only nods vaguely, hardly seeming to even _hear_ her, picking absentmindedly at his mostly-uneaten dinner which has long since grown cold and pretending not to notice the concern in her face. It's been a week now, he thinks; a week with no contact from Dante, not even the slightest hint of whether he might be okay, and perhaps he's just being overly sensitive about the whole thing but he just can't stop _worrying_. (It absolutely doesn't help that he can't ever recall Dante having been AWOL on a job like this since they've known each other, and he just can't manage to push _that_ particular gnawing anxiety out of the way.) Surely there would have been _something_ by now, a phonecall, a letter, just...anything?  
  
He groans, shoves his plate aside and rubs his face, giving a wan apologetic smile when Kyrie squeezes his arm, unspoken questions in her eyes. "I'll eat it later," he says, puts his hand over hers for just a moment and then gets up, chair legs scraping noisily on the linoleum. "I'm sorry. I just - I'm gonna go see if I can help Nico with anything, alright? I need to _work_ right now...try and get my mind off how stupid I'm being."  
  
Kyrie purses her lips, looks like she wants to protest, but instead she just rises too, circling round the table to where she can put her arms soothingly around him. "You're not being stupid," she tells him, rests her head briefly against his shoulder when he slips a tired arm around her waist. "It's okay, Nero. I understand. You can't help worrying about the people you love - I feel the same way whenever you're not here. But I always believe you'll come back, just like you need to believe he will." Raising her head, she looks him in the eye, gives him a reassuring smile and puts a hand up to cup his cheek when he blushes faintly. "Go ahead, I'll put your dinner in the fridge for later. Just don't push yourself, please."  
  
"I won't," Nero promises quietly, gives her a grateful squeeze, pressing his lips briefly to her forehead in unspoken thanks. "You wouldn't let me anyway, even if I tried."  
  
"Of course I wouldn't," she agrees, her smile a little more amused now as she turns him loose. "Don't let Nico blow anything up this time, okay?"  
  
He can't help a snort of laughter at that - the first time he's laughed, _felt_ like laughing, in a week now, and it brings a little relief -  and nods, turning to go. "I'll try, anyway."  
  
A half hour later, he's managed to lose himself acceptably well in helping Nico with some fixing up on the RV; she'd picked up on his somber mood almost instantly and taken it upon herself to crack bad jokes and tell stories to distract him, and she's still doing it now, though she's muffled enough with having half her upper body shoved under the dashboard that it's a bit of a struggle to make out her words. "--So I'm tellin' the guy I can't get hold of the parts, right," he _thinks_ she's saying, given the context of the current story, "and he's just not takin' no for an answer, tries to pull that whole 'I demand compensation for my wasted time' shit all the self-absorbed morons like to try. Hey, hand me the wire cutter, would you--" a hand emerges, fingers waggling in his direction, and then retreats again when he obediently slaps the requested tool into her palm, words now punctuated by sharp clipping sounds. "Thanks. Where was I - right, then the douchebag gets all up in my face and tells me _he's_ got some parts I can grab, like he expects me to bend over and take it just cause I can't get what I'd need to actually _fix_ his shitty gun. So I threw a wrench at his sorry head and told him I was damn sure he had _nothing_ worth grabbing, since he was asking for compensation--" and she's radiating smug, wriggling back out of the compartment with the most self-satisfied grin he's ever seen on her face. "Worked, too. Jackass slunk out of there, lookin' like someone just ran over his cat, and never came back. My finest moment, I'm pretty sure."  
  
Nero snorts quietly, gives a brief headshake and takes the wire cutter when she hands it back, tossing it haphazardly into the toolbox from whence it came. "Sometimes I wonder how anyone puts up with you," he teases halfheartedly, turning his head so he can ignore the shrewd and observant look she's giving him, instead focusing on the mess of old and empty bottles against the wall that he's been _meaning_ to take care of but never got around to. "On second thought, never mind. I don't wanna know. The answer probably involves hazardous fumes, more alcohol than I've ever seen in my _life_ , and enough dead bodies to keep three morgues in business for half the year, and I'd like to keep _some_ plausible deniability for the inevitable questioning." He finally looks at her again, cracks a faint but genuine smile when she snorts a laugh in the way she does when she's pretending to be insulted, and gets to his feet, automatically wiping his hands off on the hem of his shirt even though he hasn't been doing anything messy. "I'm gonna head in and catch a shower, alright? Try not to electrocute yourself or cut off any limbs."  
  
"No promises," Nico says blithely, slams the removed panel back into place and swings herself down to the creeper seat she's left waiting, on her back and rolling underneath the RV with a practiced ease that always makes Nero wonder how she does it so quickly. "Wait, before you go anywhere. Hop in and see if the radio turns on. Should be fine, but I'd rather find out if it's dead now instead of the next time we hit the road--" she's _audibly_ making a face at the thought, not that Nero can blame her. "Keys are in the cupholder."  
  
"You're trusting me with the keys?" Nero asks mock-skeptically, even as he hefts himself up into the driver's seat and reaches for Nico's overloaded keyring, silently praying the engine turns over _without_ another burst of sparks like the last time; thankfully, it roars safely to life on the first turn of the key, and he's reaching for the radio dial when the inbuilt phone unexpectedly rings.  
  
Autopilot takes over; he grabs the receiver, brings it to his ear, his voice taking on the light and casually inflected tone he reserves for not alienating potential customers. "Devil May Cry."  
  
"Hey, I _like_ the sound of that, kid. Nice and professional," says the cheerful voice on the other end of the line, and he freezes, nearly drops the phone. "You been plotting to take over my business while I'm away, or does the 'I'm only putting up with you for the money' tone come to you naturally?"  
  
He swallows hard, opens and closes his mouth a few times in an attempt to get his voice to work, and when he finally manages, it's a strangled gasp. " _Dante_?"  
  
Dante chuckles, and yeah, that's _definitely_ him, even distorted over the degrading lines of what sounds like it must be the world's oldest pay phone, from the tinny quality to the sound. "Who the hell else would it be? No, don't answer that. Sorry if I caught you at a bad time, but d'you think you could make it out to the wharf?"  
  
Instead of answering, Nero - rather embarrassingly - bursts into tears.  
  
It takes him a bit to calm down, by which point Nico's extracted herself from underneath the RV, grabbed the phone out of his unresisting hand and is enjoying herself entirely too much slinging a volley of scathing insults at Dante for making him cry, and he knows he should _probably_ try to deescalate this situation but he's too afraid he'll just embarrass himself even more, instead just wiping his eyes roughly dry on his sleeve and taking deep breaths until he thinks he can speak again. "Gimme that," he says finally, reaches for the phone and manages to be a little surprised when Nico surrenders it mostly without complaint, putting it to his ear again to hear Dante's stifled laughter on the other end. Of course he'd be enjoying the situation too, of _course_ he would-- "The wharf," he says over the laughter, not so much a question as a confirmation, swipes his sleeve over his face again and tries to pretend he sounds a lot less pitiful than he does. "You planning on coming back with us, or what? Kyrie would probably put you up for the night if you asked her real nice."  
  
"I won't say I didn't consider it," Dante admits, and he doesn't sound the least bit ashamed for it. "But I was more thinking _you_ might want to spend a night with _me_ , instead of the other way around. Unless you think you can be quiet enough that the kids won't--"  
  
"Alright, I _get_ it," Nero interrupts quickly, and he's _sure_ he has to be turning several shades of red that definitely aren't found in nature, elbowing Nico away when she tries to lean in close enough to eavesdrop. "Fine, I'll be there in twenty minutes. You're gonna have to put on your big boy pants and entertain yourself till I get there, though."  
  
"Aw, and here I thought you wanted me to take _off_ the big boy pants," Dante counters, putting on his best petulant tone. "Mixed messages, kid. You gotta quit sending 'em."  
  
"Just shut the fuck up, sit down and wait for me." Nero huffs, slams the receiver back down onto its base, but he's grinning, feeling suddenly _light_ in a way he hasn't done since their last night together.  
  
It takes all his willpower, and even some he didn't honestly know he had, _not_ to tackle Dante the instant their eyes meet, but somehow he manages to hold himself back until they've reached their usual room at the motel and the door's shut behind them; the instant he hears the lock click into place, though, he just gives up, gives _in_ , seizes hold of Dante's shoulders and slams him back against the wall and then their mouths are meeting and it's the best thing he's _ever_ felt in his life. All the worry, all the sadness, the fear - it's all melting away, the gnawing emptiness he's felt for a damned _week_ now finally starting to fade, and he's not even aware he's crying again until he has to pull back to get his breath, genuinely confused for just a moment as to why his cheeks are wet and he can taste salt at the corners of his lips. "I," he starts, swipes halfheartedly at the tears, "you--" and he realizes he doesn't even know what he's trying to say, what he _wants_ to say, so he just takes as deep a breath he can and holds it for a second, willing himself to calm. "You - really came back."  
  
"Yeah," Dante says, smiles sympathetically and brings a hand up to cup Nero's cheek, thumb gently rubbing across his cheekbone in a soothing motion. "Told you I'd be back, didn't I?" --but there's no animosity in it, nothing even teasing, just a quiet and apologetic seriousness that says he's not making light of the situation at all. "...I'm sorry it took so long. You can smack me if you want - y'know, if that makes you feel better. Hell, I'd smack me, too."  
  
Nero hiccups a noise that's some mixture of laugh and sob, leans into the reassuring hand and takes a couple more deep breaths, welcoming the warmth that's filling him just by being in _proximity_ to Dante once more. "Don't ever worry me like that again," he says, his voice thankfully steady, closes his eyes for a moment and then looks up again, a genuine smile starting to tug at his mouth. "What took you so long to come back anyway? I was starting to think you fell into some kind of hellhole or something--" and he immediately regrets saying that, because it's _actually_ a possibility, and the way Dante's expression goes faintly sheepish makes him want to beat his head into the nearest wall a few times. (He settles for thunking his forehead _hard_ against Dante's shoulder; it's bound to hurt less than a wall.) "Never mind. I'm sorry I asked."  
  
"Not as sorry as I was to _live_ it," Dante says dryly, but he's smiling again, running a hand through Nero's hair, lingering there for a moment in a way that says he's missed giving all those affectionate little touches just as much as Nero's missed receiving them. "Look, I'll tell you all about the whole gig later, but I think we've got something far more important to focus on right now. You clearly missed me--" he interrupts himself with a chuckle, because that's about the most obvious thing that could have come out of his mouth right now. "And I know I sure as hell missed _you_ , so why don't we get started on making up for that? Sound like a plan?"  
  
"Yeah - yeah," Nero agrees quickly, takes a deep breath and gives one last swipe at his cheeks even though they're now dry, as if making damn sure he's stopped crying and doesn't look nearly such a mess any more. "Sounds great. You have no idea how fucking much I want you right now."  
  
Dante grins at that, looks Nero up and down, as if sizing him up. "I think I can guess," he responds, and then he's stepping away from the wall, pressing against Nero forcefully enough to make him back up, not stopping until they've reached the bed and those storm-blue eyes are glinting bright with aggravated _want_. "But if it's all the same to you, I think I'd prefer _knowing_ to guessing. So...how about we get all these pesky clothes off and you show me what you mean? Always been more of a hands-on guy, y'know."  
  
"Not going to ask what you like having your hands on," Nero mutters, but the way he half-smirks proves he isn't actually as annoyed as he's pretending, as does the way he immediately lifts his hands to begin stripping as Dante steps back enough to do the same.  
  
It doesn't take long at all before they're both nude, and the very instant the last piece of clothing hits the floor, Nero's wrapping his arms tight around Dante and making to fall back to the bed, kissing Dante hard to swallow a breath of laughter as he willingly lets himself be pulled down too. Gods above, it feels so _good_ , like it's been months instead of just a week, like he'd somehow managed to forget just how it felt to hold and to be held like this - and he doesn't need to be a mind reader to know Dante feels the same way, from all those possessive little touches and the biting kisses currently being pressed all over his jaw and neck, driving him absolutely wild in a way he hasn't felt since they'd first _met_. (Something about that strikes him as oddly funny, in its way, but he's not going to think too hard about that when there's better things to do.) " _Dante_ ," he breathes, tips his head back and lets out a little whine when Dante's teeth close ever so gently over his throat, just firm enough to send desperate sparks skittering down his spine from the feel of it. "I - _please_ , don't tease me, I-I want you so much..."  
  
"Thought you'd never ask," Dante says, low and rough and trailing off into a shuddery chuckle, and he _clearly_ doesn't want to pull back from Nero even for a moment but he reluctantly does so anyway, reaching for his discarded coat and rummaging in the pockets for the ever-present lube. "I was thinking of you the whole time, you know. Thinking of how upset you'd be if I got my ass kicked down there--" he nudges Nero's legs apart a little more with his knee as he's slicking his fingers, pressing two unceremoniously into him and watching him intently as he arches with a pleased curse. "Turned out alright in the end, though - got a nice new weapon out of it too," and his fingers curl, sharp insistent pressure against Nero's prostate, making him squirm and rock his hips frantically, trying to fuck himself on the stretching fingers. "Remind me to show you when we're done, yeah?"  
  
"You assume," Nero pants out, low and shuddery, whining as those fingers withdraw, "that I'm gonna _remember_ to remind you--"  
  
"Point," Dante agrees with a half-smirk, shivering absently at the feel of the chilly gel on his cock as he slicks himself, eyelids briefly fluttering with pleasure. "Not the point you wanna be thinking of right now, either, right?"  
  
" _Damn_ right," Nero says in a shuddering hiss, spreads his legs, looking at Dante with beseeching eyes and taking a quick breath as possessive hands clamp onto his hips. "Come _on_ , you bastard, I've been fucking dreaming about this for a _week_ now and I swear I'm gonna _cry_ if I don't get you in me in the next five seconds--"  
  
Dante's only answer is a not-quite-human sound of amusement, and he doesn't hesitate any longer, burying himself in Nero's welcoming heat with a single swift thrust.  
  
" _Fuck_ , Dante--" Eyes wide, pupils blown large with desperate need, Nero wraps his legs tight around Dante's waist and clings to him, heels pressing into the small of his back, letting out a guttural groan when he doesn't hesitate to immediately begin moving with harsh jarring thrusts. "Yes, _fuck_ , just like that, don't - you dare stop--" and then he gives up on trying to speak altogether, buries his face into Dante's neck to muffle the wild sounds he's making, biting down hard just to make Dante snarl in the way that always makes him want to lose control and pushing frantically up against the vicious movements. Yes, this is perfect, exactly what he's wanted, what he's _needed_ \- and there's a part of him that's just so _smug_ about the obvious fact Dante's been craving this just as much, a warm thrum of amusement underneath everything else, and somehow that's just making it all so much better that he just can't hold back (even if he wanted to, which he definitely does not.) "I - _god_ , Dante, please - please don't stop, don't _ever_ stop, feels - so good - I, I'm gonna..." he breaks off with a thin and most embarrassed whine, digs his nails into Dante's back just below his shoulderblades and drags them down, fighting to keep just enough coherency to finish his thought before he utterly loses it. " _Please_ , Dante, I - make me _come_ for you..."  
  
Dante groans sharply, manages a tight nod, arching into the scrape of Nero's nails against his skin and tilting his head just a little so their foreheads are resting together, panting breaths coming in short sharp bursts that wash hot across Nero's trembling lips. "Like I'd...do anything else," he says, half-teasing, a breathless growl nearly below the edge of hearing that trails off into a possessive noise, rumbling low in his chest almost like a second heartbeat. "You look - so damn good - when you lose it for me - let it go, yeah? Let it all go--" he growls again, wordless this time, snaps his hips sharply forward in a jarring thrust that's perfectly timed to meet the next frantic buck Nero makes against him. "Let me feel you - let me _see_ you - _fuck_ , you're so _gorgeous_ like this - I love you - _so much_ \--"  
  
Nero sucks in a startled breath, lets out a whimper that was _meant_ to be a reply, but another of those vicious thrusts and Dante's mouth abruptly claiming his in a deep biting kiss is more than enough to distract him from any attempts at forming words, and he just doesn't have the mind to protest even if he _wanted_ to - so instead he gives in, rakes his nails sharply up Dante's back and lets that hot, needy mouth swallow down the guttural sound he makes as he comes, trembling at the near identical sound torn from Dante's throat as he follows only a few moments later.  
  
This is perfect, he finds himself thinking with the last shreds of coherent focus he has - the most perfect thing he's ever felt in his life, and it's almost enough to bring him to tears yet again, breaking the kiss and burying his face into Dante's neck, clinging like he never wants to let go.  
  
"Shit," Dante breathes out, voice low and shuddery, "that was - _shit-_ -" and he's laughing in sharp huffs of breath, overwhelmed, only just retaining enough control to settle gently against Nero instead of simply just flopping down on top of him, bringing a hand up to tangle into his hair downright possessively and ghosting little kisses against the top of his head as the both of them slowly calm. "Never felt _anything_ like that in my life...damn, you're amazing," he finally goes on after catching his breath, huffs another laugh when Nero makes an embarrassed noise and nips at him, taking the not-really-punishment as his due. "Maybe I need to go away more often...if coming back is gonna be _this_ good."  
  
"Don't even think about it," Nero says petulantly, still a little breathless, nips at him again and looks up to give him a most unamused stare. "I _seriously_ thought something bad had happened to you. Not letting you do that again." --but he can't even stay pretend-angry when Dante's looking at him like that, so soft and affectionate, and his own expression slowly relaxes, an almost nervous smile twitching at the corners of his lips. "...Seriously. Don't do that again. I don't think I'd be able to take it."  
  
"I didn't _mean_ to," Dante says reasonably, runs a gentle hand through his hair, smiling when he leans into it with the faintest hint of a blush. "But hey, if bitching about it makes you feel better, then bitch away."  
  
"Bitching? Oh, you want _bitching_? You ain't seen nothin' yet." Nero puts on an exaggerated frown, narrows his eyes a little, but he's obviously trying not to grin and it's _not_ working, and when Dante starts laughing he can't help but join in, feeling the last of that little knot of cold, worried tension finally just dissolving away. "You know, you're the most infuriating, cocky, careless, devil-may-care bastard I've _ever_ had the fucking misfortune to meet in my life--"  
  
"I know. But you love me anyway, right?" Dante grins, amusement practically dancing in his eyes, his other hand coming up to thread into Nero's hair as well.  
  
Nero promptly reddens, right up to the tips of his ears, opens his mouth for an embarrassed protest, but--  
  
"...Yeah. Yeah, I do. More than _anything_ ," is what he says instead, and when Dante's expression softens and he leans in for a kiss, that makes all the embarrassment completely worth it.  
  
When their lips part, he bring his own hands up, settles them a little shyly against Dante's cheeks to cup his face, and whispers.  
  
"...Welcome home, Dante."  
  
Dante nods slowly once, closes his eyes, and now it's _finally_ his turn for tears to well up, those words touching something deep in his soul that he hadn't even honestly known was hurting. "Yeah," he says, takes a shaky breath, swallows slightly, fighting back the growing lump in his throat long enough to keep speaking. "Yeah, I...I'm home."  
  
Nero smiles, simply holds him, closing his own eyes and slowly, slowly relaxing.

 


End file.
